After the Defeat
by procyonblack
Summary: After the defeat of Voldemort, Harry can’t get over the fact that almost all his friends died...15 years later his son gets his letter. But nothing is what it seems. People thought innocent are not, and Harry finds he must go back into active service.
1. Default Chapter

_After the defeat of Voldemort, Harry can't get over the fact that almost all his friends have died... And that it was Dumbledore's faith in Severus Snape that caused it. The death of his girlfriend, Ginny, makes him feign his own death to the Magical World and work as a bus driver – but then something unexpected happens..._

**Disclaimer**: JK Rowling owns most of the characters. Thanks, JK!

_**Preface**_

Harry stared at the letter, so familiar to him with its emerald green ink. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about the possibility that his children would be magical over the years, but he hadn't thought about it recently, and now the letter came as a total surprise.

What should he do? He pondered the idea of destroying the letter, as Uncle Vernon once had with his own, but almost immediately dismissed the thought. He could never deprive his own child of the choice of entering the Magical World... No, he would have to give John the letter. He looked at it once again. It said, 'To Mr John Evans; Room at the Top; 4, Church Lane; Spiffing Amberton, Cambridgeshire.'

The memories evoked by this letter were still painful, Harry noticed. It made him think of things he had avoided for years, and, obviously, never come to terms with. The worst bit was thinking of Hermione and Ron, and, of course, Ginny, who had become his girlfriend only shortly before. Their deaths had been among the most meaningless of all, having occurred after the fall of Voldemort, at the hand of some of his Death Eaters who had still been at large.

That was what had ultimately led to Harry abandoning the Magical World. With none of his best friends left, and many of his dearest teachers, such as Dumbledore and McGonagall, gone too, he had felt that it was a relief to talk to people who knew nothing of this. And he could only do that in the Muggle World.

It had been his intention to take a short break only from the Magical World, but then his life as a muggle had become routine; he had put away all his magical things in the attic and even fallen in love (or thought he had) with a muggle woman, Cordelia Jones. They had married, and the thought of re-entering the Magical World had become even remoter than before. He was happy, in a way, and his two children were a source of immense joy to him. He had changed his surname to Evans, which had been his mother's maiden name, when he first entered the Muggle World, and he had kept it in order to make himself more difficult to find for those from the Magical World who might want to do so.

But then Cordelia had left him, when the children were seven and nine years old, to go to her e-mail lover in Peru. For all Harry knew, she might have been murdered on the Macchu Pichu trail, because he had never heard from her since. Luckily, she had left the children with him.

And now John had got his letter. He wasn't home right now, he was at a friend's house, but Harry would give it to him as soon as he came back. He didn't know whether to be happy that John wasn't a squib, or sad that he would now, once again, have to come in contact with the Magical World.

**Author's note**: Just a short introduction... Please tell me what you think!!!! There are some surprises coming up, so keep on reading.


	2. The Letter

**Chapter two**

**The Letter**

**Author's note**: Thanks for the reviews – hopefully you'll like this chapter too, although the real action doesn't start until a bit later.

Harry went into his son's room that night after he'd fallen asleep. He hadn't shown him the letter yet; he needed to decide, first, how much to tell John about his own part in the Magical World. Was there anybody left from his days at Hogwarts? And if so, would they recognise John somehow, although he had a different surname? Harry didn't want John to grow up like he had, with other people knowing more about himself than he did – but was he really prepared to tell John everything?

Harry thought of Dumbledore, who had waited so long before telling him about the prophecy, among other things, and how he'd reacted when he'd found out. With hindsight, Harry was more prone to understand Dumbledore's reasoning, but it had been terrible for him all the same, and he didn't want anything remotely similar to happen to his own son.

* * *

The next morning, he waited until they had all eaten breakfast before he spoke to John, still not sure exactly what he was going to say, how much he was going to reveal. John was about to go out, as usual (his sister had already gone to see a friend), when Harry called his name.

'John, have you got a minute?'

John looked at him in surprise, because Harry rarely sounded so serious, and when he did, it often meant trouble. 'What is it?' he asked warily. 'I haven't done anything bad, honest. Peter accidentally hit Mrs Davies...'

'Calm down!' Harry said, smiling. 'I'm not accusing you of anything...' He produced the letter, a neatly rolled up piece of parchment. 'This... this letter came for you yesterday.' John took it, a puzzled look on his face. 'Go on, open it,' Harry said, trying not to sound too eager.

'Dear Mr Evans, We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry', it said below the name of the headmaster. Harry could hardly bring himself to look at the names that would be there. What if someone terrible had become Headmaster? What if they hadn't been able to get anyone decent to do the job? It could be... Professor Binns... or Professor Trelawney... or even Dolores Umbridge! He had no idea what had happened in the Magical World since he left; as far as he knew, there might be a reign of terror even though Voldemort had been defeated. But then he did look, ignoring his son saying 'Dad? What _is_ this? This just sounds so weird!'

'Headmaster: Rubeus Hagrid, Order of Merlin, third class.' Harry sighed with relief. At least it was someone he liked... Then, however, he came to think of the Blast-Ended Skrewts and wondered what Hogwarts was like with Hagrid as Headmaster. Hadn't they been able to find anyone more suitable – Professor Sprout, maybe, or Professor Flitwick?

But still, it could have been worse, he supposed. He looked at the end of the letter to find out who the deputy was. 'We expect your owl no later than 31 July, Yours Sincerely, Filius Flitwick, Deputy Headmaster. So there he was. But why not the reverse? Why wasn't Hagrid the deputy and Flitwick the headmaster?

'_Dad!_!' John had raised his voice, causing Harry to start.

'Yes?' he said, absentmindedly, still looking at the letter.

'What's this supposed to be, some joke?'

'No... It's from the best magical school there is – the best in the World...'

'Magical – are you all right, Dad? It isn't the first of April, you know.'

'It is the school I went to, John... Oh, I'm glad you're not a squib, even though your mother is a muggle!

John stared at him. 'Squid? What do you mean? And what's a muggle?'

'Squib, not squid – '

'You're... you're serious, aren't you? But why haven't you told me? Us? ... Did Mum know?'

'No... Your mother didn't know.'

At this moment Harry's daughter came back home. Harry looked at her, remembering how he'd had to put a memory charm on his wife in order to make her think that she had chosen her daughter's names: Lily Hermione. It had been easier with John; that had been the name of Cordelia's father. Harry, however, had thought of Remus John Lupin, and had also managed to persuade Cordelia to give John his middle name: Sirius. He had, briefly, considered naming his daughter Ginny, but decided against it. That would have been too painful, his heart still aching for Ginny whenever he was reminded of her.

'What are you two up to?' Lily said, smiling. 'Planning someone's funeral? What's John done this time, then?' Harry looked at her and realised that it was time for him to sit down with his two children and tell them everything.

* * *

**Author's note**: Yes, Flitwick doesn't put the letters in envelopes, but rolls them up instead. You'll just have to accept that. Please R&R!! More coming soon! 


	3. Diagon Alley

After the Defeat  
  
Chapter three  
  
Diagon Alley  
  
About a week later, Harry and his children were on their way to Diagon Alley. Harry was slightly nervous, worrying that someone might recognise him, but as he looked in the mirror that morning, he felt reassured: he looked completely different than the seventeen-year-old Harry Potter had done at the time of the Defeat.  
He had no scar, for one thing; it had disappeared when Voldemort had died; and his hair wasn't as untidy as it used to be. The fact that he had wanted it to look different after he'd left the wizarding world might have played a role here; that might have been the reason it didn't grow back overnight like it used to when he was a boy at the Dursleys'. So he had been able to cut it short for the first time in years. Then he'd put a permanent lightening charm on it – Hermione had been good at that sort of thing, but she wasn't there to help anymore – but he had still managed to make it an inconspicuous dirty fair colour.  
So he looked rather unlike his former self; his glasses, too, were different; they were ordinary, rectangular muggle glasses. And he was wearing muggle clothing, as usual. Only his eyes were the same, and they, of course, might give him away – his mother's eyes, which had been the key in the defeat of Voldemort.  
Old Tom at The Leaky Cauldron didn't recognise him, however, and Harry was relieved and disappointed at the same time. What would he have done if it had been revealed that the famous Harry Potter wasn't dead after all? In a way, he longed for that to happen. That was the one thing he hadn't told his children that day when he told them about the Magical World: who he really was. He was slightly worried that they might find out by accident, but there it was, he just couldn't face telling them: it would be too traumatic.  
  
John and Lily were awe-struck at the sight of Diagon Alley. They went around to the different shops, getting all the things on John's list, and Harry wasn't recognised anywhere, except perhaps by the goblins at Gringott's, but they wouldn't tell. At Flourish & Blott's, he bought some books for himself: "Recent Developments in the Magical World: A History of the Time After the Defeat" by Plato Pendragon, and "Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived – And Died" by none other than Rita Skeeter, who, of course, was no longer threatened by Hermione's knowledge that she was an unregistered animagus.  
As he looked around a little more, he was surprised to discover that Gilderoy Lockhart had published yet another book. Then his eyes fell upon a title that made him shiver. "The Life And Crimes of Severus Snape: The Man Who Betrayed Albus Dumbledore". On the cover, there was a photograph showing the cold, sneering face of his most hated teacher. Snape looked as if he were sulking; he left the picture frequently, only coming back now and then to have a look at what was going on in the shop. How Harry had hated Snape even before the betrayal; and then, afterwards, his loathing of the man had increased beyond anything he'd ever have thought possible. He hesitated, but then he couldn't resist buying the book. He put it into his bag, quickly, both to avoid looking at it himself, and also to make sure that John and Lily didn't see it.  
When it was time to get John's wand, Harry thought that it would not be wise for him to go into the shop; Mr Ollivander was one of the persons most likely to recognise Harry and he didn't want that. So he took Lily with him to buy John a pet he could take with him to Hogwarts. He thought of Hedwig, longingly, for the first time in years; when he had faked his own death, he had told her to go to Luna Lovegood and stay there, since Luna was the only surviving friend of his who didn't have an owl: Ron had left Pigwidgeon in Neville's care shortly before he died, and Percy had discarded Hermes for being disloyal to the Ministry, so he had gone to stay with the Weasley twins. And none of the others who had been close to Harry were still alive.  
Lily desperately wanted to get John a cat, but Harry was adamant: he was to have an owl, nothing else. At the mention of a cat, Harry wondered, fleetingly, what had happened to Crookshanks. He quickly pushed the thought away, however, paying for the beautiful, black eagle-owl he had chosen for John, taking no heed whatsoever of the wishes that Lily expressed so ardently.  
'You can have a cat when you get your letter,' he told Lily as they left the shop, going over to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where Harry bought them three strawberry and peanut butter ice creams.  
'What if I don't get a letter?' Lily said fretfully. 'What if I'm not magic?' Harry looked at her thoughtfully, thinking back, remembering what she had been like as a small child. He realised, now, that – deep down – he'd known all along that both his children were magic. They had done so many strange things that could not be explained in any other way; only he himself had acted like a true muggle, making up explanations for their behaviour.  
'You are,' he said reassuringly. 'Don't worry, Lily, I know you are.' 


	4. Owl Post

After the Defeat  
  
Chapter four  
  
Owl Post  
  
Harry woke with a start. He'd had that old nightmare again (not the one about Voldemort, he hadn't had that since the defeat); he'd dreamt about Ginny. He couldn't remember the dream very clearly, but he knew it had been horrible, Ginny struggling against two Death Eaters, unable to get away, then someone subjecting her to the Cruciatus curse ... Harry sat up in bed, his body covered in cold sweat. That had been years ago; he would have put it behind him, to forget ...  
  
John had left and now there were just the two of them left at home, Harry and Lily. They were having breakfast; Harry had done his best to forget about the dream – and Ginny - when John's shiny black eagle owl swooped in through the window, which Harry had left open just in case.  
  
Hi Dad, Hi Lily,  
  
Hogwarts is just great, it's beyond belief! I met loads of interesting people on the train, and, luckily, I got sorted into the same house as the ones I liked most – Gryffindor. Wasn't that the house you were in, Dad?  
  
The start of term feast was brilliant, and all the ghosts are really cool. Why didn't you tell me about them? I'll write again soon, I've got to go to Herbology now.  
  
John  
  
Harry smiled – John had never been a great one for writing letters. Then he looked further down on the sheet of parchment. There was something scribbled there, hastily:  
  
I forgot to mention all the strange sweets they had on the train – I got loads of Chocolate Frog Cards! One of them was with Harry Potter, the boy who defeated Voldemort – that was a really big thing, everybody tells me. He seems cool, was he at school with you? Pity he died, though.  
  
Harry stared at these lines. So he was on the Chocolate Frog cards... He shivered, thinking of the reason he was on them. Ginny's face flashed before his eyes, Ginny in agony, captured by the Death Eaters... But no, he couldn't think of that now, he didn't have time, he had other things to do...  
'What's wrong, Dad?' Lily asked, looking at him scrutinisingly. With a start, Harry realised that she was still there.  
'Oh, nothing,' he said, 'Just thinking of my own days at Hogwarts... Well, what are you waiting for?' he said irritably, 'It's a quarter to nine, off to school with you!'  
  
That evening after dinner, John was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, talking to Ron Creevey, who was in first year with him, and Lizzie and Jamie Weasley, who were in first and second year respectively, and whose fathers were twin brothers. They all seemed to know each other from before, but were really friendly, making John feel welcome in the wizarding world and at Hogwarts.  
'Professor Parkinson, what's she like?' Ron said exasperatedly. 'She just really seems to hate the Gryffindors and she definitely favours the Slytherins... Can they really do that? Shouldn't the teachers be fair?'  
'Oh, I know,' Jamie said, 'She's always like that. Dad says that the old Potions Master, the one he had, was even worse, but I doubt it. Snape, his name was.' He lowered his voice. 'He's in Azkaban now – he betrayed the Order of the Phoenix (the ones who fought against Voldemort, he said in explanation) and because of him, Albus Dumbledore was killed... But at least he was good at making potions, Dad says... Can't say the same about Parkinson...'  
'I'll ask Dad if he knew her, they're about the same age, I think,' John said.  
'Oh, your Dad was at Hogwarts?' Lizzie asked. 'When?'  
'Um, I think he must have started in 1990 or '91... I don't know exactly.'  
'My parents were here then, too!'  
'And mine!'  
Ron looked at John, thoughtfully. 'I think my Mum started in 1991, too, or maybe in 1992. What house was he in?'  
John frowned. 'I – I don't know,' he said, 'He never told me. But as I told you before, we've lived like muggles all my life... I didn't even know I was magic until I got the Letter...'  
'Mum was in Gryffindor,' Ron said. 'Dad too, by the way.'  
It seemed all three of them had a Gryffindor family history on both sides. John felt a bit left out, not knowing so much about his Dad, and having a muggle mother who he hadn't seen for two years.  
'Don't worry, John,' Lizzie said. She had seen the look on his face, apparently. 'A lot of people come here not knowing much about the wizarding world. Think of all the muggle-borns! Their parents can't explain anything to them.'  
That wasn't the same thing, though, John thought; if your parents were muggles you weren't expected to know anything... But he – he had a wizard father...  
'And besides,' Ron said, 'the only reason why we know such a lot about each other is that we're family – we're all Weasleys.' He paused. 'My Mum is a Weasley too, you see. So ask your Dad if he knew her – Ginny Weasley.'  
  
Author's note: Thanks again for the reviews and, yes, someone's going to recognise Harry eventually ... And of course, you will find out more about what Snape did (and what has happened to him), so keep on reading!!! 


	5. Tragic News

Chapter 5  
  
Author's note: Your reviews are really inspiring and make me want to write more!!! Thanks! And yes, Ginny is alive and she is Ron's mother. Only Harry doesn't know yet ...  
  
Tragic News  
  
Harry had seen Lily off to school and was finishing his breakfast a few weeks after the start of term, when he saw a Police car stop outside his window. His heart sank – what if something had happened to John at Hogwarts? What if he'd had an accident during a flying lesson, or if a Potions class had gone wrong? But then he sighed with relief as he remembered that this was the Magical World he was thinking of; if anything happened to John, they wouldn't send the Police to tell him about it. Before he could think of any other possible scenarios of disaster, the doorbell rang and Harry went there to open the door.  
  
There was bad news, however. Harry was told by the Police that his estranged wife had been killed under mysterious circumstances in Ecuador, where she had been on holiday with her Peruvian boy-friend. As Harry closed the door after the Police had left, he was surprised to find that he had no vindictive feelings left for Cordelia; the only thing he felt was deepest sorrow for her and her now failed attempt to achieve happiness. Back then, when she had just left him and the children, he had often felt bitter, and he had even wanted revenge, but now he had to admit that it was his fault as much as hers that their marriage had failed, since he had never been able to get over his love for Ginny completely.  
  
When Harry told Lily about her mother's death, she reacted forcefully, as he'd expected. He sat with her that night, holding her like he had when she was a small child, trying to give her some comfort and consolation. When she'd fallen asleep, her cheeks still stained with tears, he thought about John. How would he tell John about what had happened? He couldn't just send him an owl with terrible news such as this, and he didn't want one of the teachers telling him about it either; no, he would have to go there and tell John himself... Yes, that was the only way. He would have to send Hagrid an owl straight away, telling him he would come.  
  
The following morning, Harry and Lily took the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade. Harry had gone up to the attic the night before to get his wand from the large trunk where he kept all the things he had that belonged to the Magical World. He hadn't brought it with him to Diagon Alley that day before the start of term, because he didn't want to feel tempted to fully join the Magical World again; but now he needed it in order to call the Knight Bus. He had realised that he didn't actually have an owl to send to Hagrid, so they would have to arrive at Hogwarts unannounced.  
  
Harry was looking forward to meeting Hagrid with slight trepidation, a little concerned that he might recognise him. What would happen if he did? Would Hagrid tell on him? No, Harry was sure he wouldn't, not if he asked him not to, but then again, he remembered all the things that he, Ron and Hermione had found out from Hagrid by accident – Fluffy, Nicholas Flamel – There were countless things, Hagrid simply couldn't keep a secret. But he might be different now, of course. He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, after all.  
  
In spite of all that had happened, Lily seemed to enjoy the ride on the Knight Bus. She had not even had so much as a letter from her mother for the last two years, and although she had taken it quite hard in the beginning, she had forgotten what it was like to have her mother at home after a while. Harry suspected that Lily had really mourned her mother two years ago, and would be able to finish the process rather soon. He wasn't going to talk to her about it; not now, at least; she would have to initiate such a conversation herself when she was ready for it.  
  
The fact that Cordelia was dead made Harry think of Ginny even more often. On the Knight Bus, he sat for a while, day-dreaming about Hogwarts, while Lily was looking out the window. Suddenly he had seen Ginny again, running down from the castle to the lake after one of her exams in sixth year, smiling. That had been just before the final battle and Harry had been sitting his NEWTs, the pair of them meeting down by the lake – under that same tree where his father, Sirius and Lupin had sat after their OWLs – in the afternoon. For a few short days, they had forgotten all about the terror and the muggle murders that were taking place everywhere, concentrating, instead, on their exams, just like all the other Hogwarts students.  
  
Afterwards, Harry had wished that he hadn't spent so much time revising for his NEWTs; he should have spent more time with Ginny instead. He didn't even know his NEWT results; by the time he should have got them, Voldemort had been defeated and almost everyone who mattered to Harry was dead, and Harry had gone into hiding in the muggle world. It had taken some effort to make sure no-one could find him, but he had succeeded in doing so and it had given him something to think about, something other than the painful memories of friends dying. A few times during the following years he had regretted leaving the Magical World, thinking about the friends who were left – Luna, Neville and the remaining Weasleys. He had never decided to go back, though, since it would have been both difficult and traumatic.  
  
The Knight Bus came to a halt outside The Three Broomsticks and Harry and Lily got off. The Castle was visible from here, its high, dark towers pointing into the sky. What was it like now? Harry wondered. It would have to be rather different with Dumbledore and McGonagall gone, he thought – and Snape. What was Hogwarts like without those three teachers, the three who had had the greatest impact on the school? For in times of crisis, it had always been those three who had sorted things out. It had been McGonagall and Snape who supported Dumbledore, not Flitwick and Sprout, the other two heads of houses. When the Basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets had been at large, McGonagall and Snape had been there, ready to help. When Barty Crouch Junior had been caught, McGonagall and Snape had tried, jointly, to save him from Fudge's Dementors.  
  
Now, however, all three of them were gone. One of them was, himself, a long- term-victim of the Dementors of Azkaban. Harry had had a look at the book about Snape a while ago, and it seemed like Azkaban was as bad as ever. The second one was dead as a result of the first one's treachery. And the third of them was in the same ward as Neville Longbottom's parents at St Mungo's, hexed into oblivion. 


	6. The Headmaster's Office

Chapter 6  
  
The Headmaster's Office  
  
The school looked as he remembered it, Harry noticed as he and Lily entered the castle. They went straight to the Headmaster's office, the one Dumbledore had been using, and stopped in front of the huge stone Gargoyle. Harry wondered how they were going to get in; they hadn't met any teachers on their way there, nor any students for that matter. How he wished that he had still had Hedwig; then he'd have been able to write to Hagrid, thus avoiding a situation like this. But then, he was glad that Hedwig was with Luna; he could think of no better place for her to be. He decided to try a few possible passwords, and he guessed the right one on his third try: 'Norbert'. The Gargoyle swung aside and Harry and Lily went upstairs.  
They stopped outside the door to the office. As Harry was about to knock, he heard voices in there, a woman's voice, sounding rather misty, and two different men's voices, one of which was undoubtedly Hagrid's.  
'When are yeh goin' then?' He heard Hagrid asking.  
'Well, we'd prefer to leave no later than in three weeks,' the woman said, 'the Orb has told me that we will be in America soon ... perhaps sooner than necessary ...' The mention of the Orb left Harry in no doubt whatsoever as to who the woman was.  
'It's important for publicity, you see,' the unknown man said. And we're combining it with our honeymoon ...'  
Harry realised that he couldn't stand out here, listening to the whole conversation. He knocked.  
'Come in,' came Hagrid's familiar voice from inside. Harry opened the door, feeling nervous; he was about to meet one of his best friends, one of the first people he had met when he'd found out that the Wizarding World existed, and one of the few persons left who had known him really well. What would it be like? ... But he had no time to think about that now; he was here because he had terrible news for John.  
Harry went inside, Lily coming closely behind him. He could barely hold back a gasp. Behind the desk, as could be expected, was Hagrid, and sitting opposite him was Sybill Trelawney, but there, next to her, was none other than – Gilderoy Lockhart! What was he doing here? It was no great surprise to find that Trelawney was still at Hogwarts, but Lockhart!  
'Hello there,' Hagrid said, sounding quite professional and headmaster-like, Harry thought. At least for being Hagrid. 'How can I help yeh?' he asked.  
Harry introduced himself as Mr Evans – he found it too risky to mention his first name – and explained that he needed to see his son about a matter of some urgency. He noticed that Professor Trelawney, who had remained in the office with her husband-to-be, did not give any sign of recognition – not that he had expected any, but still, it confirmed that she was no more a seer than he was. He thought about when he'd first done Divination, Trelawney telling them how rare true seers were ... But were there any true seers at all, Harry wondered?  
Trelawney and Lockhart left, and Hagrid asked Harry about the reason for his visit. He became very concerned when he heard about John's mother; apparently he had already got to know John and come to like him rather well.  
'Ah, the poor lad,' he said, 'It's hard, losin' a parent ... My own father died when I was in second year, so I know ...' He patted Lily on the head and gave her a reassuring look. 'It's terrible now, but yeh'll get over it,' he said to her.  
Harry nodded gravely. He looked at Lily, whose eyes filled with tears at hearing Hagrid's words. Hagrid left them there to go and fetch John, who had History of Magic. 'Yeh'd better tell him yerself,' Hagrid had said to Harry, 'and yeh'd better do it here where we're alone.'  
John was looking apprehensive as he came in, obviously wondering why his father and sister were there. There was no easy way around this, Harry realised. Somehow it seemed to be more difficult to tell John than Lily, although he was older and should be more mature. As Harry told John, seeing, in the corner of his eye, the tears streaming down Lily's face once more, the reaction he'd expected never came. John simply stood there, stony- faced and quiet. He didn't say a word about what he'd just heard.  
'John?' Harry said gently. 'I ... do you want to come home with us for a week or so? Take it easy for a little while, before you come back?'  
'No,' John said curtly, 'I'd rather stay here.' He looked down.  
Harry remained silent, not knowing what to say. Why didn't John cry like Lily had – or at least look sad? 'It's OK to cry, you know ...' he said quietly.  
John looked at him, and Harry was shocked to see the look of pure venom on his face. 'Cry?' John said incredulously. 'Cry? For HER?' He was staring at Harry, his eyes protruding and a muscle twitching at his eyebrow. He looked mad.  
'John, what ... what is it?' Harry went closer to him, reaching out for his arm, trying to calm him. Lily was crying even more, looking terrified.  
'I'm glad she's dead ... She deserved it!' John hissed, baring his teeth. 'That ... that slut!'  
'John!' Harry exclaimed, shocked at his choice of words. How was it possible that he hadn't noticed John's feelings towards his mother? He felt his own guilt settle like a heavy stone in his stomach. 'John, don't talk about your mother like that!' he said tremulously.  
'Mother? She doesn't deserve to be called my mother!'  
At this point, Lily started sobbing loudly and Hagrid went over to her, putting his arms around her shoulders, saying: 'Come here ... I'll show yeh somethin' interestin' ... It's outside, I'm sure yeh'll like it ...' They went off, leaving Harry alone with John.  
As soon as they were alone, Harry went over to his son, but as he touched his shoulder, John flinched. 'Don't touch me!' he spat. 'I hated her, it serves her right that she died.'  
'John ... can we at least talk a little about this? Couldn't you come home for a day or so?'  
'I don't want to.' John was stubborn and didn't give in, and when Hagrid came back with Lily a few minutes later, John took his chance to leave without a word, Harry looking after him worriedly as he went. Hagrid suggested that they stay on for a night or two at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, in order to come and see John again the next day; by then, he would hopefully have calmed down a bit.  
As they left the castle, Lily was quite happy again, excited about going to an all-magic settlement. Harry, however, realised that he was more worried about John than he had first thought, going over the scene in Hagrid's office over and over again. They had a look around Hogsmeade, Lily's eyes open wide in admiration, especially at Honeyduke's, and then took a room at the inn.  
That night, Lily went to sleep quickly, exhausted by all the new impressions. But Harry was wide awake, unable to sleep. He sat by the window, looking out at the street, which had been so busy during the day but now lay deserted. Did he imagine it, or did the stars shine brighter here than in the Muggle World? He didn't know.  
He was thinking about the Astronomy classes they had used to have at Hogwarts, the nightly excursions to the Astronomy Tower, when suddenly a snowy owl swooped down towards the window, beckoning him to let it in. Harry was stunned. Who would send him an owl here? But then he realised that it had to be Hagrid, of course; maybe there was something wrong with John ...  
He let the owl in quickly, hurriedly tearing the letter from its foot. He didn't notice the owl's slightly disgruntled expression while he was opening the letter, but then he stopped, staring at the envelope, unbelievingly. The letter wasn't addressed to Harry Evans – it was addressed to Harry Potter. Who could have sent this? Had Hagrid recognised him? But if so, why hadn't he said anything? Slowly, he took the letter out. It said:  
  
"Now that you've returned to the Magical World, I thought you might need your owl back. Luna."  
  
Author's note: Once more, thank you all so much for the reviews!!! I'm really glad you like the story. You'll get to see some more of the characters from the books soon, so keep on reading! 


	7. Imprisoned

Chapter 7  
  
Imprisoned  
  
The Isle of Azkaban had a look of utter gloom and desolation in the raging autumn storm. The prison dominated the island completely, its dark towers and battlements pointing into the steely sky, casting a great shadow over the sea surrounding it. There was no sign of life.  
In his cell, Severus Snape sat on the dirty stone floor, leaning against the wall. He was wearing dirty, grey robes made of some coarse fabric, torn in several places. If you looked at him closely, you could see that he was shivering, but nobody was there to look. A viewer would also notice that Snape had become even thinner since his days at Hogwarts, which made his nose more prominent than it had used to be. His hair was longer and there were some streaks of grey in it, his skin paler and more sickly- looking, and his eyes sunken.  
The prison was cold and dark and rather quiet, apart from the moans and cries that could be heard from some of its inmates from time to time. The Dementors did their rounds twice a day, but in between, Snape was left to his own thoughts, although the impression the Dementors left lasted a good while, making the prisoners feel anguish and desperation beyond anything ordinary people could possibly imagine.  
If it hadn't been for the fact that Snape was very skilled at Occlumency, he might well have gone mad by now. Practising Occlumency didn't only hide your own thoughts from others, but it also made other people – Dementors included – unable to penetrate your mind effectively, thus giving a certain protection against the effect of the Dementors.  
It was his own fault that he had ended up in here, Snape thought, eyeing his dinner gloomily. He didn't feel like eating, but if he was ever to get out of here, he would have to eat something. And he had to get out of here. Even with the Dark Lord gone, there was still work to be done – important work.  
Suddenly, Snape heard a mad, desperate voice shouting curses at a distance: Bellatrix Lestrange, how he loathed her. The feeling was entirely mutual, of course. She, as well as the few other Death Eaters who had managed to avoid getting themselves killed in the Final Battle, still blamed him for betraying the Dark Lord to the Order of the Phoenix. Although the inmates at Azkaban had little opportunity to speak or interact with each other, Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters took every chance they got to terrorise Snape in whatever way they could.  
He wasn't really that bothered by their attempts to make life miserable for him, though. He had more important things on his mind. He knew that their world had been shattered to a far greater extent than his at the Defeat; their lives had lost their meaning. They were lifeless puppets, and without the Dark Lord there to pull the strings, they were nothing. They were still a hazard to the Wizarding World, of course, but they had no purpose. Unlike himself.  
He desperately needed to make contact with the outer world, but during the fifteen years he had spent incarcerated at Azkaban, the opportunity of doing so had never presented itself. For fifteen years, he had met no one but Dementors and Death Eaters, with one noticeable exception: the Minister for Magic, who had visited him four years ago. His visit, however, had been fruitless.  
Snape had to get out of Azkaban, and there was one single person who might be able to help him with this. He sighed. The thought that the only person he could rely on was a foolish, gullible girl was hardly reassuring. And how to contact her? It was impossible. For fifteen years, he had tried; he had pondered every possible way of getting a message to her, but to no avail. Had he overlooked anything? No, there was no chance of that. He was stuck.  
The only way of getting out that remained to him was one he had never seriously considered before: using the help of the other Death Eaters. If he wanted to get out, he would have to get their aid somehow. That would be difficult, of course, but if it was his only chance ...  
Once he was out, he would contact her, the little fool.  
  
Author's Note: Sorry about the prolonged cliffy from last chapter, but let's face it: it is more fun this way. I promise you'll find out more about Luna and how she knew about Harry in the following chapters! And thanks for the reviews – the more reviews I get, the more I feel like writing! 


	8. An Offer

Author's Note:  
  
Thanks, Hakkai – Gojyo – Goku – Sanzo, for the fiftieth review!! And thanks a lot to all of the other reviewers!  
  
Chapter 8  
  
An Offer  
  
Harry stared at the letter – or rather, the note – unbelievingly. Luna had written to him, using his real name. She knew. But how could she know? And how long had she known? If she had known that he was alive all the time, why hadn't she contacted him earlier?  
She must have known for a while at least, and now she was angry with Harry, hence the short note only, without any words of greeting whatsoever. He looked at the note again, then realised what it said – the snowy owl who had brought it was Hedwig! Harry looked at her properly for the first time, then stroked her back, filled with deep joy at the sight of her. He had never realised how much he missed Hedwig, not until now that he had her back.  
Harry spent the night writing a reply to Luna. There was some parchment in the room, and Harry used a large amount of it before he came up with a letter he was happy with. It only said,  
  
"Dear Luna,  
  
How did you know?  
  
Harry"  
  
He had written several longer letters, but they had all seemed unnatural, and in the end, he settled for this one. He then tried to make Hedwig take the letter to Luna, but she refused blankly to leave his side. After a while he gave up trying to persuade her and decided he would go to the Hogsmeade Post Office on the way to Hogwarts instead.  
Lily and Harry had breakfast together, and then Harry talked to Madam Rosmerta, who agreed to take care of Lily during the day so Harry could talk to John on his own. That way Lily wouldn't get upset about all that had happened again. Hedwig let him go only reluctantly, after he had asked her solemnly to watch Lily for him.  
Harry was just in time for his meeting with Hagrid at ten o'clock, having sent the note to Luna and then strolled through Hogsmeade at his ease, savouring every sign of magic. How had he managed without this for so long, Harry wondered? It was fifteen years now, almost to the day, and during that time, he had seen nothing of the Wizarding World. Right there, walking to Hogwarts, Harry was suddenly overwhelmed by a desire never to leave the Magical World again.  
He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind, however; now, he had to talk to Hagrid, and very soon he would have to deal with poor John, who had hopefully calmed down a bit since yesterday. 'Norbert,' he said again, then knocked at the door to the Headmaster's office.  
'Come in!' Hagrid said, and Harry entered, glad at hearing Hagrid's voice. At least there was someone left here whom he knew and liked ... When Harry came in, Hagrid was sitting at the desk, which was far too small for him, reading a letter.  
'Shouldn't you get a bigger desk, Hagrid?' Harry asked as he came in, then gave a start – he had given himself away! No stranger would ever talk like that to Hagrid; he was bound to notice that something wasn't as it should be ... But Hagrid sat there, lost in thought, and miraculously didn't seem to notice.  
'Er .... Excuse me, Headmaster,' Harry said, being cautious this time, 'what's wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?'  
'Er ... no, no, this is nothin' yeh could help me with ... The Divination teacher has left, she's marryin' Lockhart ... yeh wouldn' know him, he's a famous writer in the Wizarding World, they're going on a promotional tour in the United States now ...'  
Harry tried to hide a smile. He'd heard all of this yesterday, but he hadn't taken it in properly. What a strange combination, Lockhart and Trelawney. This had to mean that Lockhart had been cured.  
'... So now I haven' only lost her – there's the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to find too, I haven' been able to find anyone, there's a rumour that the job is jinxed ... There hasn' been a teacher who's lasted more than a year for thirty years now ...' Hagrid was rearranging his papers distractedly, muttering confused comments about the Defence Against the Dark Arts post.  
Harry didn't say anything. Defence Against the Dark Arts ... that had been his favourite subject. He could teach that – he had taught that, during his own days at Hogwarts, when he had been the leader of the DA ...  
'Ah, it hasn' been easy, yeh know, I didn' want this job in the firs' place ... I only took it as a last favour to Dumbledore ... he used to be the Headmaster here, he's dead now though, died in the Final Battle ... great man, Dumbledore ... Ah, they nearly all died. There's only me left from the Order, almost.' He looked up, startled, as if he had only just realised that Harry was there. 'Sorry, yeh wouldn' know about any o' that, I s'pose. Yeh see, there was this wizard who went bad – really bad. He had followers who called themselves Death Eaters, an' there were deaths ... a lot of deaths, both wizards an' muggles. But he was defeated fifteen years ago, by someone called Harry Potter. He's dead now, too ... Almost all of them are.' Hagrid looked down at his too small desk, sadly. 'Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, Hermione Granger ... the Weasleys – Arthur, Bill, Ron and Percy ... Mundungus Fletcher, Amelia Bones ... I could go on for ages, there were so many victims, especially in that last battle ...' A single tear trickled down Hagrid's bearded face. He paused. He looked confused, as if he didn't quite know why he was confiding in a total stranger, whom he thought was a muggle.  
Harry, however, was feeling guilty. How could he have been so selfish, pretending that he was dead all these years when there were people who needed him? How could he? Harry had questioned his decision to leave the Wizarding World occasionally, but he had never doubted that it had been justified. He had lost so much, and his burden during the war had been so great that he had never even paused to consider what losses other people might have suffered.  
'And now Bagman thinks I'm doin' a bad job, not havin' a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, he wants to give the job to someone from the Ministry ...'  
'Bagman?' Harry exclaimed.  
'The Minister for Magic, yeh wouldn' know him.'  
'What? Bagman's Minister for Magic?'  
Hagrid looked up. 'D'yeh know him? But what am I thinkin' of,' he said briskly, 'yeh must be worried abou' John ... Let me see what I can do ... I'll go and get him, shall I?'  
Harry said nothing, but stood there just looking at Hagrid. He ought to go back home with Lily, pretending to be a muggle again, and live an ordinary muggle life ... But – why, really? Would Lily suffer if they became part of the Magical World? It didn't seem all that probable, seeing as she hadn't wanted to leave Diagon Alley when they were there. She had been enthralled by Hogsmeade, too ... But her schooling, how would he be able to arrange that?  
'I could be your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,' Harry blurted out, then stopped, almost as surprised as Hagrid at hearing these words.  
'What?' Hagrid stared at him, taking in his appearance properly for the first time. 'But ... yeh're a muggle. D'yeh even know what Defence Against the Dark Arts is?'  
'Er – well, Headmaster ... I'm not a muggle. I mean it, I could help you. I could do the job, I'm rather skilled at it.' He looked at Hagrid imploringly. He had suddenly come to realise how much he had missed the magical world all these years. In a way, it had been easy to pretend he was a muggle, but it had also been hard to let go of the Wizarding World. And now that he had come in contact with it again, he didn't know if he was willing to go back and pretend any longer. He didn't want to be a bus driver, he wanted to be in the Magical World. He wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job.  
Yeh're not a muggle?' Hagrid said suspiciously. 'But then yeh must have been at Hogwarts?'  
'Er – yes, I was. Yes.'  
'Yeh were? I don' remember anyone called Evans ... only a girl, far older than yerself, Lily Evans her name was ... And then there was Mark Evans, but I met him only a few days ago, and yeh're not him ... What house were yeh in?'  
'Um ... Ravenclaw.'  
Hagrid shook his head. 'Ravenclaw?' he muttered. 'Evans – Ravenclaw?' He didn't believe Harry, that was obvious. What should he do? He had gone too far for concealment already. It was time for him to do what he should have done long ago.  
'Hagrid ... It's me, Harry.' Harry trembled as he said it, scanning Hagrid's face for a reaction. ' Harry Potter.' How he had wanted to say those words. How he had wanted to tell Hagrid ever since he first saw him in the Headmaster's Office.  
Hagrid's mouth fell open, but Harry could see that he knew he was telling the truth. 


	9. Home Again

Chapter 9  
  
Home again  
  
'Harry!' Hagrid exclaimed, then sat down heavily on the chair that had once belonged to Dumbledore. It creaked dangerously beneath him, as if it was about to break into pieces any second. 'Is it really you?'  
Harry thought about all the measures he had taken in order not to be recognised, and realised that he would have to prove that he was who he said he was. 'Yes, Hagrid,' he said. 'Ask me anything you like – anything that only I would know – you'll see that it's really me.'  
Hagrid thought for a moment. 'Who's Aragog?' he said after a while.  
Harry smiled. 'An enormous spider that lives in the Forbidden Forest with his wife and thousands of children ... who tried to eat Ron and me once.' Harry looked at Hagrid, still smiling. 'Is he still there then?'  
Hagrid stared at Harry, his mouth open. 'But ... it's impossible! Yeh ... yeh died, fightin' Lucius Malfoy!'  
Harry sighed, feeling guilty. 'I didn't die, Hagrid – I only wanted you to believe I was dead ... no, not even that, really, it just happened that way; I couldn't face the Magical World, I had lost so many friends, so many persons dear to me ... I just wanted to stay away for a while, but then ... then it became permanent, and I stayed in the muggle world. It just happened that way. I changed my appearance so no one could recognise me, and I performed a concealment charm on myself to avoid detection.'  
Hagrid wiped away some tears from his face with the back of his huge hand. 'Yeh've still got yer mother's eyes, though,' he said, and smiled for the first time since Harry had entered the room.  
'Yes,' Harry said quietly. 'I'd never change that.'  
Suddenly Hagrid rose from Dumbledore's chair, walked up to Harry and pulled him close into an enormous embrace. 'I can' believe it's you,' he said as he let go of him. 'I can' believe yeh're really back. But wait a minute ... this means yeh really can do the Defence Against the Dark Arts job!'  
'Yes, of course.' Harry smiled again. 'If you'll have me ...'  
'Ah, there's nobody I'd rather have – nobody better suited ter do the job!' Hagrid exclaimed. 'That'll be somethin' for the students – ter be able ter say that they've been taught Defence Against the Dark Arts by the One who defeated Voldemort.'  
'Hagrid,' said Harry seriously. 'If I take this job I don't want anyone to find out who I really am. I haven't even told my own children. You'll have to keep it a secret.'  
Hagrid looked disappointed, but quickly composed himself. 'Well ... if that's what yeh want ...'  
'It is,' Harry said firmly. 'And when I say keep a secret I mean really keep it. Not the way you did with Fluffy – and the dragons ...'  
Hagrid smiled apologetically. 'Sure, Harry, I really will keep it.'  
'Well then,' Harry said briskly. 'I suppose you'll want me to start as soon as possible.'  
Hagrid nodded, still looking somewhat overwhelmed, but pleased as well.  
'I'll just need some time to get things in order,' Harry went on. 'I have to talk to John and Lily, and ... yes, I'll have to arrange something for Lily, she will have to be schooled somehow ...'  
'Oh, that'll be no problem,' said Hagrid, happily. There's loads of families in Hogsmeade who teach their own children, yeh'll be able ter arrange somethin' with them. I'll help yeh if yeh like.'  
'Thanks, Hagrid ...' Harry smiled. 'Now I'd like to see John, if there's nothing more we need to discuss right now.'  
'Of course! I'll get him right away.' Hagrid hurried away, looking a lot happier than he had in the morning.  
After a few minutes, John came into the room, looking slightly apprehensive.  
'John – how are you feeling?' Harry said, eyeing him concernedly.  
'I'm fine,' John muttered, looking down at his own feet. 'Listen, Dad ...' he gave Harry a quick glance, 'I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't really mean what I said about ... about Mum. Not all of it, anyway.'  
Harry was relieved. He had feared that John would still be as angry as he had been the day before. 'Oh, John!' he said. 'I know it hasn't been easy for you. And I'm not saying your mother was right in leaving us the way she did, and never letting us hear from her, but it wasn't all her fault. She never would have left if I hadn't ... well, if I had been able to get over my first love. I'm as much to blame as she is.'  
John looked doubtingly at him, just as Hagrid entered the room again.  
'So, Harry,' he said cheerfully. 'Have yeh told John the good news yet?'  
Harry cleared his throat nervously. 'I was just getting to that. John, it looks as though Lily and I will be staying on here at Hogwarts for a while.'  
'Staying on?' John said suspiciously. 'But why? Don't stay for my sake – I don't need you here to baby-sit me, I can take care of myself. And I'm not that upset about Mum. I never expected to see her again anyway.'  
'I know you can manage on your own,' Harry said reassuringly, 'and we're not staying for your sake. I'm doing this as a favour to Hagrid. I'm going to be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.'  
There was a pause as John took in this bit of information. 'Defence Against the Dark Arts?' he said after a little while, incredulously. 'But, Dad, that's supposed to be really difficult! Are you sure you can manage?'  
'Don't worry about yer dad, John,' Hagrid said. 'He was the best in his year at Defence Against the Dark Arts. In fact, I think he was one o' the best we've ever had here at Hogwarts.'  
John stared at his father as if he had never seen him before. He looked both surprised and impressed at the same time. ''Well, in that case ...' he said slowly. 'Oh, it'll be great having Lily here! I can't wait to show her everything, and introduce her to all my friends!'  
  
That night, Harry was sitting in his room at the Three Broomsticks, looking at Lily who was fast asleep. She had been even more thrilled than John at the prospect of staying at Hogwarts. During the evening she hadn't been able to stop herself from talking excitedly about what it would be like to live in the Magical World. Now she had finally dozed off, and Harry was sitting by the window. What an enormous difference from the previous night! Last night had been filled with insecurity and hopelessness, but now Harry's life had taken a completely different course. He was back in the Magical World. He was back in the only place he had ever been able to call home. Who would have suspected this, even a few days ago?  
As Harry was sitting by the window, he thought of the day's events. He remembered Hagrid as he used to be during his own school days. Everything was so different now, but Hagrid, in essence, was the same. He wondered what had happened to Hagrid's hut – was the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher living there now? And if so, did it look the same? He thought about the hut, remembering their frequent visits there, sitting in front of the fire, drinking tea, trying to avoid eating Hagrid's home-made rock cakes ... But then the room changed. Suddenly, there were cold, bare stone walls, and a single torch fastened to the wall. There was an eerie feel to this room, all the cosiness was gone ... this wasn't Hagrid's hut. Without any warning, Harry's scar seared with pain. He woke with a start. What had happened? How could his scar hurt again – it had disappeared when Voldemort died ... Harry rubbed his forehead, anxiously, as if trying to ascertain that there was no scar, and there wasn't. Yet there was still a prickling sensation where the scar had once been ...  
At that moment, a large screech owl appeared outside the window, a letter tied to its leg. Harry opened the window excitedly. The address was in Luna's handwriting. He tore it open and read:  
  
"Dear Harry,  
  
I saw your return to the Magical World in the Orb. Congratulations on your new job. We shall see each other soon.  
  
Yours, Luna"  
  
Author's Note: I have seen in the Orb that there will be a lot of reviews for this chapter – but then, Divination is a very imprecise branch of magic, so I may be wrong ... please, please, prove me right! 


	10. Familiar Faces

Chapter 10  
  
**Familiar Faces**  
  
Early the next morning, Harry and Lily moved their things to Hogwarts. They were moving into the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's quarters, where all of Harry's previous teachers in that subject had once lived, including Lockhart and Lupin. Lockhart was probably the only one of them who was still alive, Harry mused, since Dolores Umbridge had been killed by a Dementor at the beginning of the second war.  
They would have to arrange something in order to get their things here from Spiffing Amberton, Harry thought as they tried to make themselves at home with the few things they had brought with them. Lily was happy, however, and it didn't seem to bother her that she didn't have any of her things there.  
Hagrid had arranged for Lily to be home-schooled with the children of Hannah and Ernie MacMillan, who lived in Hogsmeade and had children who were the same age. She was excited at the prospect of spending her days in an all magic family.  
When they had settled in, Hagrid took Harry to the staff room to introduce him to the other teachers. On the way there, Harry wondered whether there would be anyone there who recognised him – and also how many of the teachers would be familiar to him. Many of the old ones were gone – McGonagall, Snape, Trelawney and, of course, all the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers – but there were also many who might still be here, for all he knew. And it turned out he was right.  
As he entered the staff room, he saw, instantly, that most of the teachers were the same as they had been when he was at Hogwarts. Only two faces were new to the school, and even those he recognised.  
'This is our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Henry Evans,' said Hagrid, looking proudly at Harry. 'Henry, this is Filius Flitwick, our Charms teacher ...' Hagrid introduced Harry to all the teachers: Sprout, Sinistra, Vector, Madam Hooch and the other ones Harry remembered from his own days at school.  
'And this is our Potions Mistress and Head of Slytherin House,' Hagrid went on, looking at a woman who seemed to be the same age as Harry and had long blonde hair. 'Pansy Parkinson ...' Pansy smiled flirtatiously at him.  
Harry couldn't help staring at her in shock, then quickly averted his eyes as Hagrid began introducing the last teacher in the room.  
'... And this is the Transfiguration teacher, Nymphadora Tonks,' he finished 'And she is Head of Gryffindor.'.  
Harry now turned to stare at Tonks, who looked annoyed that Hagrid had mentioned her first name, but then smiled warmly at Harry. Then he tried to compose himself, while most of the teachers hurried away to the various classes they were having. Tonks, however, remained in the room.  
'Please, call me Tonks, not Nymphadora,' she said to Harry, giving Hagrid a reproving look.  
'Sure,' said Harry, remembering, with a smile, when he had first been introduced to Tonks in the kitchen at the Dursleys' all those years ago. She looked almost the same as she had then, only her hair was a more modest chestnut colour. She looked a lot more serious than she had used to, and Harry wondered what her life had been like since the Defeat. Why had she given up working as an Auror? He supposed she might be doing Hagrid a favour, just as he was.  
He turned to Hagrid again, and saw Pansy Parkinson just leaving the room in rather a hurry. She was the last of the teachers to leave, except Tonks, who didn't seem to have a class right now.  
'How could you hire Pansy Parkinson, Hagrid?' Harry exclaimed as the door closed behind her. 'She's useless at Potions, she always used to mess things up.'  
'Oh, were you at school with her then?' Tonks said, eyeing him with interest.  
'Er – yes – I was,' Harry said, regretting his slip of the tongue, swearing to himself that it wouldn't happen again.  
'Oh well, you must have been in the same year as Harry Potter, if you had Potions with Parkinson, that is.'  
'Er – no, I just ... I just knew some classmates of hers.'  
'Oh ...' Tonks looked at him, a hint of suspicion in her eyes.  
'Ah, Harry, it hasn' been easy to find people here yeh know,' Hagrid said and sighed heavily. 'I have to take what I get – at least I have _you _now, a proper Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, tha's important ... But I still don' have anyone for Divination ...'  
Harry thought about Luna's letter, where she had sounded so much like Trelawney, talking about the Orb. She had seemed to know an extraordinary amount of facts about Harry. 'How about Luna Lovegood?' He said, forgetting to worry about the chances that Tonks would recognise him. Luna really would be perfect for the job, considering that she had already made more true predictions in a day than Trelawney had during Harry's entire time at Hogwarts.  
Tonks snorted. 'Oh, Luna Lovegood, she's made all sorts of crazy predictions ...' she said with a laugh. 'Don't you know she said that Guatemala would win the Quidditch World Championships next year (they don't even like Quidditch in Guatemala, they have Quodpot instead), and she's been saying for years that there will be a new Minister for Magic ... and I mean, she _still _insists that Harry Potter is alive!'  
'Hmm... Tha's right, she did say that,' said Hagrid thoughtfully. 'Yer right there, Harry, I think that might be rather a good idea ... Lovegood, I hadn' thought o' her before. Yes, I'll send her an owl straight away!' He left the room eagerly, without another glance at them both.  
Tonks stared after him, looking utterly bewildered. She then looked back at Harry, realisation dawning in her face. 'Hagrid just called you Harry,' she said, looking at him scrutinisingly. 'Those eyes ...' she looked at him even more intensely, leaning closer, 'those are your mother's eyes ...'  
Harry realised that the game was up. 'Hagrid isn't very good at keeping secrets,' he said, looking at Tonks guiltily.  
'Harry!' she whispered. 'Is it really you?'  
'I'm not as good at disguises as you are ...' They looked at each other, and then couldn't help but grin, both of them at the same time. Harry gave Tonks a big hug.  
'Harry! I can't believe it!' she said, shaking her head. 'But how is it possible? You – you're supposed to be dead! This can't be true! I mean, there were several witnesses who saw you getting killed!'  
'Oh well, I got away, but that's a long story.'  
'But where have you been all these years? And how come no one was able to find you?'  
'I lived as a Muggle ... And I had put a concealment charm on myself.'  
'But _why? _Why on Earth would you do something like that?'  
'I know, I know ... I didn't mean to stay away for so long, but after the Defeat, I knew I would never be the same; I couldn't face all of you right then, I needed to get away ...'  
'But Harry, what about your friends, the people who cared about you – the people who loved you ... We mourned you for years. How could you do that to us?' There were tears in her eyes as she said this.  
'Tonks, I'm so, so sorry. I've been really selfish, I realise that now. But you have to understand that I didn't plan it this way. It's all my fault though, I'm not denying that.' He looked at Tonks, who didn't respond at first, but just looked back at him in silence, then sat down in one of the armchairs.  
'All right, but you must realise that you hurt a lot of people ...' she went on, looking at Harry. 'Some more than others ...'  
Harry's stomach churned as he thought of Mrs Weasley, who had lost a husband, three sons and a daughter. He remembered that time, so long ago, at Grimmauld Place, when Mrs Weasley hadn't been able to get rid of the Boggart, which had turned into different members of the Weasley family, all dead – but also into a dead Harry. How could he have done this to her?  
He thought, also, of the time when Mrs Weasley had told Sirius that Harry was as good as a son to her. He hadn't fully appreciated it at the time, but now he was filled with remorse at the thought of what she had suffered because of him. He looked at Tonks again, who was surveying him with a strange expression in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something when Hagrid burst in through the door, looking pleased with himself.  
'If you'll excuse me, I have a lot of papers to grade,' Tonks said and left the room hurriedly, leaving Harry feeling even more guilty. 


	11. Defence Against the Dark Arts

**Chapter 11  
  
Defence Against the Dark Arts  
**  
Meanwhile, John and his friends were having double Potions with the Slytherins. Professor Parkinson was sitting at her desk, polishing her nails, while cauldrons were exploding all around the classroom due to the non-adequate instructions Parkinson had written on the blackboard.  
'Ten points from Gryffindor,' Parkinson was heard shouting across the room at regular intervals, and sometimes she got up in order to try to help some of the Slytherins, temporarily abandoning her manicure session. She was, however, rarely successful in determining what mistake had been made when something was wrong with a potion.  
John, Ron and Lizzie were trying as best they could to make a forgetfulness potion, when Parkinson suddenly approached their table. 'So, Evans,' she said, 'Your father's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?'  
John looked up at her, warily. 'Yes.'  
'Where's your mother then?'  
'She's dead.' John said shortly, trying to avoid thinking about it.  
'Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that,' Parkinson said, smirking. She didn't look sorry at all. John looked at her incredulously. How could she be so insensitive? But then, she didn't know how recently it had all happened, he supposed.  
His mother's death had been hard to accept, perhaps all the more as he hadn't seen her in so many years, and had never got the chance to hear her version of what had happened between her and his dad. He had blamed her for everything for so many years, wanting to have it out with her, to shout at her that she had been wrong to leave his father, and now this would never happen.  
He hadn't talked to anyone about it, but somehow, Ron and Lizzie had understood the essence of his feelings anyway, supporting him simply by showing him this with looks and body language.  
He had cried himself to sleep on countless occasions during the two years that his mother had been gone, and now he had done so again, but he had a feeling that it wouldn't happen many more times – perhaps never. That part of his life was over now. And Professor Parkinson wouldn't be able to ruin his composure, that was for certain. He looked at her defiantly.  
The next second there was a deafening bang from Ron's cauldron, and purple sparks were flying in every direction.  
'Twenty points from Gryffindor,' Parkinson snarled, making no attempt to help Ron clean up the mess he had made.  
  
The three of them were worried that they might not make it to the Defence Against the Dark Arts class on time, but they did; they were there before Harry turned up; in fact, they were the very first students there.  
While they were waiting, John began to worry slightly about having a lesson with his own father as a teacher. How come Hagrid had been so convinced of Harry's ability to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts? What did he really know about Harry? It was hard for John to believe that his dad, who had been working as a bus driver for as long as he could remember, was skilled at one of the hardest subjects that were taught at Hogwarts. Skilled enough to teach it.  
What if his father made a fool of himself? John's stomach churned at the thought of it. And the more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that his dad had made a giant blunder in taking this job.  
He didn't have time to think much longer, however, since Harry was now coming into the classroom. John looked at him; he was smiling at them, not looking worried or nervous in any way. Perhaps everything would be all right after all.  
'Hello, John!' Harry said cheerfully, putting his books and some mysterious objects which John had never seen on the desk. Then he walked over to the three of them.  
'These are my friends, Ron Creevey and Lizzie Weasley,' John said, and Ron and Lizzie both said hello to Harry. Did John imagine it or did Harry look a little strangely at Ron? It seemed like he was looking at Ron's red hair, but surely red hair was nothing unusual ... 'They're both in Gryffindor,' John added.  
'Yes, I thought so,' Harry said slowly, a quizzical look on his face. 'There are only Gryffindors in this class, you see. And anyway, you always get to know the people from your own house first, don't you?' He went on in a voice that was slightly too cheerful to be entirely natural. Well, maybe Harry was nervous about having to teach after all, John thought.  
'Creevey and Weasley,' Harry said thoughtfully, 'those names seem familiar to me ...'  
'My dad and my uncle own _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_ – maybe you've seen it, it's in Diagon Alley,' Lizzie said.  
'Hm, yes, I think I have,' Harry said, smiling smugly. John wondered what was going on.  
'And my dad's a photographer for the Daily Prophet,' Ron said. 'Maybe you were at Hogwarts with him?'  
'No, I don't think so,' Harry said quickly, averting his eyes.  
  
The classroom was almost full now, and Harry introduced himself to the students. He then let them try to disarm each other, which some of them managed to do rather soon, while others found it quite hard. Wands were flying through the classroom as the students took turns to shout 'Expelliarmus'.  
It was a great class, John thought, and it certainly didn't seem as if he would need to worry about his father's teaching abilities anymore. He had succeeded rather well in disarming Ron, and thought that Defence Against the Dark Arts was a great subject, proud that it was his own father who taught it.  
  
The three of them were the last to leave the classroom, as Ron was having trouble gathering all his things; his father had sent him some new photographs that morning and he had been carrying them around from class to class.  
'Are you coming then, Ron?' Lizzie asked impatiently, and he hurried towards them. Just as he came to the door, however, he lost control over the large pile of books, papers and photos he was balancing on his right arm and it all slid down onto the floor, forming a large, untidy heap right in the doorway.  
'Oh dear,' said Harry, who had been on his way out, too. They all helped Ron pick his things up again, and Harry eyed some of the photos interestedly.  
They didn't notice, at first, how Harry suddenly froze at the sight of one of the pictures. But he kept staring at it, and eventually Lizzie turned to look at the photo too, and said:  
'Oh, that's my aunt Ginny, Ron's mum. We're cousins, you see.'  
Harry picked it up, slowly, still staring at it as if he couldn't believe his eyes. John noticed that Harry's hand holding the photo was shaking.  
'What's wrong, Dad?' he asked. 'Do you – did you used to know her? Was she a friend of yours?'  
But Harry didn't answer, he just stood there staring, his hand shaking even more, until the picture slipped out of his hand. He neither looked at them nor said anything, but took off, running down the corridor, the classroom door still open.  
The three of them looked at each other, not knowing what to think.  
  
**Author's Note**: Next week I'm going to China for three weeks, so it'll be a while before I update. But don't despair, I'll go on writing as soon as I'm back! For those of you who are also reading _Changes_, I might have time to update it once more before I go.  
  
**Thank you so much for your nice, constructive reviews, I really appreciate them!**


	12. The Dead

Author's Note: I am so sorry about the delay – as I had already told you, I went on a three-week-trip to China in the beginning of June, and on the very evening I got back, I got pneumonia and ended up spending a few days in hospital. It has taken me this long to get well enough to start writing again.  
  
Chapter 11  
  
The Dead  
  
Harry ran through the corridors blindly, knocking over students who happened to be in his way. He didn't stop to apologise, in fact he hardly even noticed what he was doing; not even Pansy Parkinson's shrill cry as he sent her down a flight of stairs made him slow down. Only when he reached Professor McGonagall's old office did he stop, panting. He thrust open the door without knocking and burst into the room. Tonks was sitting at her desk and looked up at him in surprise.  
'How _could _you?!' he shouted.  
Tonks looked at him, uncomprehendingly.  
'How could you not tell me?'  
'What are you talking about?' said Tonks.  
'Ginny! How could you not tell me about Ginny?' Harry roared.  
'But Harry – '  
'You knew she was alive! You knew and you didn't tell me!'  
'I don't understand what you mean Harry,' Tonks said quietly. 'Why wouldn't Ginny be alive?'  
Harry stared at her, incredulously.  
'Why wouldn't – she was dead! I saw her!'  
Tonks took a deep breath.  
'Why don't you ... calm down, Harry,' she said. 'Sit down and tell me exactly what you're talking about, because you're not making any sense.'  
'Don't you tell me to calm down!' Harry shouted. 'Ginny was DEAD! I saw her body and I talked to the Healer who tried to save her life ... Why do you think I left the magical world? Why do you think I left and never got in touch with anyone again? And here I come back, after fifteen years, and find out she's alive and well and married to Colin Creevey! How is it possible, tell me that!?' He sat down, glaring at Tonks.  
'But Harry ...' Tonks looked at him helplessly. 'Are you saying that you thought all this time that Ginny was dead?'  
'She _was_ dead!' Harry snapped. 'I told you: I saw her body at St Mungo's and she was definitely dead. No pulse. Cold. Dead.'  
'But ...' Tonks looked utterly bewildered. 'When did this happen?'  
'That day, of course,' Harry said, annoyed that Tonks seemed so slow on the uptake. 'The day I fought Lucius Malfoy. Why do you think I went after him in the first place?'  
'So that was the day _you_ died,' Tonks said slowly, 'or so we thought, anyway. That was about three months before Ginny woke up from her coma.'  
'Well, she wasn't just in a coma when I saw her!' Harry said angrily. 'I checked to make sure she was really dead ... I'm not a fool, Tonks! I held her dead body in my arms.' He shuddered. 'I'll never forget it.'  
'Harry, I swear to you, Ginny was in a coma – only that. That was all there was. She was in mortal peril, but she never ... Don't you think the Healers would have told Mrs Weasley if she had almost died?' Tonks looked imploringly at Harry, who looked down, shaking his head.  
'I'm not making this up, Tonks, and I didn't imagine it. You don't imagine things like that. I loved Ginny. You have no idea what it felt like to lose her – no idea!'  
'I think I do, Harry ...' Tonks said quietly.  
Harry looked at her again, and with a jolt he remembered how Remus Lupin had died in the final battle against Voldemort, only a week after Harry had found out that he and Tonks were engaged to be married.  
'I'm sorry, Tonks,' he said heavily. 'I didn't mean to ...'  
'That's allright,' Tonks said quickly. 'Well, that explains why you left, anyway. I did wonder how you could do that to Ginny ... but if you thought she was dead ...'  
Harry suddenly realised why Tonks had reacted the way she did when she found out that he was alive. _You hurt a lot of people ... some more than others_, she had said. She had been talking about Ginny, not about Mrs Weasley or anyone else. Harry sighed deeply and asked the question that was haunting him the most:  
'Why? Why did this happen?'  
He and Tonks sat there, staring at each other, both knowing that there was, of course, no answer to such a question.  
'Which Healer did you talk to?' Tonks asked after a short while. 'Was it the ordinary one?'  
'Yes,' Harry said emphatically, 'Augustus Pye.' He cleared his throat, not noticing the strange look on Tonks's face. 'In fact, I was quite mad at him ... thought he'd been dabbling in Muggle medicine again; I knew he had done it before ...'  
'Augustus Pye!' Tonks said. 'Of course ... of course, that must be it ...' She looked at Harry again. 'Harry, Augustus Pye was killed by Death Eaters that day! But since it was the day we thought you died, his death passed by almost unnoticed. It was never properly investigated.'  
'So you think ...' Harry said slowly.  
'It must have been the Death Eaters,' said Tonks. 'They must have planned all this for some reason ...'  
'Yes, that makes sense,' said Harry. 'That explains why Malfoy was expecting me. He wanted me to go after him; that's probably why they did it. They must have put Pye under the Imperius Curse or something, and ordered him to kill Ginny ... But that doesn't explain why she's alive now.'  
'Maybe ...' Tonks thought for a while. 'Maybe there was more to the plan than that, but it all went to pieces when you killed Malfoy.'  
Harry nodded dully. All of a sudden he realised that he didn't really care how or why it had happened; all he could think about was that Ginny had been alive all along, and he had spent the last fifteen years mourning her for nothing.  
'Harry, I have to go to class now,' said Tonks. 'Will you be all right? Would you like me to stay with you?'  
'Don't be silly,' Harry muttered.  
'How many classes do you have today?'  
'I only had one; the timetable still hasn't been changed to make room for all of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, so I have the afternoon off.'  
'Well, good,' said Tonks. 'Then you can ... you know ...'  
'Yeah ... I suppose I will ... I'll see you at dinner.' Harry got up swiftly and left the room, without looking at Tonks again.  
  
Harry walked slowly to the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's office. His brain repeated the same phrase over and over again: _Ginny is alive, Ginny is alive, Ginny is alive_ ... But he couldn't feel happy about it. Not only had he lost Ginny that time, many years ago, but now it felt like he had also lost the fifteen years that they ought to have shared, not to mention the fact that he had lost the girl who ought to have been his wife to Colin Creevey.  
He opened the door to his office, thankful for some peace and quiet. He needed time to think. Soon, Lily would be back from Hogsmeade, and he had to spend some time alone before he could face her. Lily – his daughter. His and Cordelia's. He would never have had her and John if he and Ginny had married. He would have had other children, perhaps. Children like Ronald Creevey. What would it have been like?  
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice. 'Hello, Harry.'  
He looked up, startled. A woman with dirty blonde hair and protruding, slightly mad-looking eyes was standing in front of him, smiling dreamily. She looked almost exactly like she had fifteen years ago, when he had last seen her. Luna Lovegood.  
'It's good to see you again,' she said, walking towards him.  
Harry burst into tears. 


	13. Through a Glass, Darkly

Chapter 13  
  
Through a Glass, Darkly  
  
Harry and Luna were sitting in comfortable armchairs in front of a sparkling fire in his office. Luna had conjured up two steaming mugs of tea and some scones, clotted cream and raspberry jam.  
'I'm sorry,' said Harry, 'I didn't mean to break down like that.'  
'Oh, that's quite all right,' said Luna. 'I often have that effect on people.'  
Harry smiled. 'It wasn't because of you, you know. It's just that ...' Harry hesitated. When he walked into his office he had wanted, more than anything, to be alone. He had wanted to deal with the knowledge about Ginny, he had wanted to sit in the darkness, brooding – to lick his wounds. But once he had seen Luna, it had been such a relief to see someone his own age, someone friendly, someone who had been at school with him and shared the pain of loosing so many close friends. And also, Luna had been the first person to know that he was back.  
'You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,' said Luna.  
'I don't mind,' Harry said calmly. 'It's all about that Death Eater attack, you know, the one when Ron and Hermione died.'  
Luna nodded. 'I know, the one where Ginny was injured.'  
'Yes. I wasn't there – as you know – but I spent the next three weeks or so at Ginny's side in St Mungo's.'  
'Yes,' Luna said in her misty voice, 'and then, all of a sudden, you were killed by Lucius Malfoy. Or so everyone thought ...'  
'It wasn't all of a sudden,' Harry said quickly. 'I mean, there was a reason I went after Malfoy. One day I left Ginny's room for a while, and when I got back ... when I got back she was dead.'  
'I see,' said Luna. She was staring dreamily into the fireplace, but Harry was sure that she was paying close attention to every word he was saying.  
'She was dead,' Harry went on, 'and the Healer told me that they had done everything in their power to save her, but that it had all been in vain. I stayed at Ginny's side for ... it felt like hours. I couldn't believe she was gone. I'd already lost Ron and Hermione, my best friends, and now my girlfriend was gone too ... And it was all their fault – Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange and Snape's. They were the ones who had killed her. Well, Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange had been caught and taken to Azkaban, of course, but Malfoy had escaped, and I swore to myself, then and there, that I would go after him and wouldn't rest until I had killed him. It didn't take me more than a few hours to find him.'  
'Yes,' Luna said thoughtfully. 'And then you faked your own death.'  
'Not really – not intentionally. I hadn't planned to do it or anything, it just happened that way.' Harry paused. 'I had no idea that Ginny was still alive. I didn't find out until I met her son in class today.'  
'I can understand you're upset, then,' said Luna.  
'Have you ... have you seen her a lot these past fifteen years?' Harry said, his voice choking with emotion.  
'We see each other from time to time,' Luna said somewhat evasively. 'She works at the Ministry now – she is Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. You can imagine what it was like for her to wake up from her coma only to find out that you, Ron and Hermione were all dead. She's quite different from what she used to be like; she's less cheerful, not so light-hearted.'  
Harry sighed, looking into the fire. 'If only I had known. I'd never have left, of course. Tonks thinks that the Death Eaters had probably planned it all. And their plan was quite a success – except that Malfoy didn't manage to kill me: I killed him instead. And then I went into hiding in the Muggle world. I didn't think I'd ever return ... until my son, John, got his letter from Hogwarts.'  
'I knew you'd return some day,' said Luna.  
'Yes.' Harry looked at her properly for the first time. 'How did you know that? Are you really a Seer?'  
'The term Seer is frequently misunderstood, or overestimated,' Luna said softly, 'but yes, I am what most people would call a Seer.'  
'But you never mentioned this at school.'  
'I didn't realise that I had the Inner Eye until I had already left Hogwarts,' said Luna. 'Professor Trelawney didn't exactly promote my interest in Divination.'  
'Well, you'll be able to do things differently now, won't you?' said Harry with a smile. 'I'm sure you'll be a much better teacher than Trelawney was.'  
'Divination is a very imprecise branch of magic,' said Luna. 'I agreed to take this position merely as a favour to Hagrid, but even I won't be able to teach those who don't possess the Gift how to See. I will attempt to teach them how to distinguish between true and false prophecies, however. The Ministry of Magic insists on keeping the subject on the curriculum, or so Hagrid told me. If it were up to me, I would remove it.'  
Harry nodded thoughtfully.  
'So, will you be up in North Tower, just like Trelawney?' he said, remembering the long walk he and his class mates had always had to make in order to get to their Divination classes.  
'Yes,' Luna said grimly. 'In fact, I think I'd better go and take a look at my quarters before dinner. If they're anything like I remember, I'll have a lot of work to do. Do you want to come with me?'  
'No thanks,' said Harry. 'I've got a few things to do myself. But let me know if you need any help.'  
Luna gave him a dreamy smile and left.  
Harry leaned back in his armchair and sighed. What a day this had been. He wondered what Ginny was doing right now. Was she sitting in some office at the Ministry? When would she go home? What would she do? Maybe she and Colin had more children. Were they ... happy? He closed his eyes and immediately saw Ginny, the way she had looked in the photograph, smiling and waving. She looked very much like the Ginny he had known all those years ago ... Known and loved.  
'Oh, Ginny,' Harry said quietly. 'If only I had known.'  
Slowly, Ginny opened her mouth and spoke to him. 'I've never lied to you, Harry ... and I never will. Whatever happens, you must believe me.'  
'It doesn't matter,' Harry said. 'We'll never see each other again ... we mustn't, because I ... it would be too painful. You can never find out I am alive ... I can't hurt you again, not when I've hurt you so much already.'  
Ginny was about to answer when, suddenly, the photograph was whisked away, and Harry was back in the room he had seen once before, in another dream; that cold, dungeon-like room with walls of stone. His vision was blurred – where were his glasses? If only he could find his glasses, perhaps he would know where he was. He could hear muffled voices somewhere above, but what were they saying? And why couldn't he move his arms or legs? He struggled to get free, but he was too weak. He was weak ... and tired ... He only wanted to sleep. Suddenly, Harry heard a laugh ... a cruel, cold laugh, which seemed horribly familiar. He woke with a start.  
  
Author's Note: I am so sorry there is nothing about Snape in this chapter either, but I promise I will bring him back into the story as soon as I possibly can! Have patience! 


	14. Speculations

**Chapter 14  
  
Speculations**  
  
John was still wondering about his father's hasty departure from the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom as he and his friends entered the Great Hall that evening. He glanced up at the High Table and was relieved to see Harry sitting there between Professor Tonks and another teacher John had never seen before, looking perfectly calm. He sat down at the Gryffindor table together with Ron and Lizzie, who hadn't mentioned anything about his father's behaviour since their class. He tried to catch Harry's eye, when Professor Hagrid rose and the Hall gradually fell silent.  
  
'As yeh can see we've got two new faces here ternight,' said Hagrid, turning to Harry and the unknown teacher, smiling broadly. 'Professor Evans here will be teachin' Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Professor Lovegood is our new Divination teacher.'  
Although the new teachers were unknown to most of the students, the applause was rather enthusiastic, as they had all been looking forward to having Defence Against the Dark Arts classes again. John noted that Harry was smiling now, and not behaving oddly in any way.  
'Your dad was really good in class today,' said Sabrina Wood, who was in the same class as John, Ron and Lizzie, but hadn't talked to them much so far. 'You never told us he was so good at Defence Against the Dark Arts. I was under the impression that he was a Muggle.'  
'Oh, well,' John muttered, 'don't want to brag, you know ...'  
'Where did he learn all this?' Sabrina went on. 'Did he use to be an Auror or something?'  
'Er ...' John was at a loss. Where _had_ his father learnt it all?  
'The Tutshill Tornados have performed abysmally this season, don't you think?' Lizzie suddenly said to Sabrina, having noticed John's predicament and quickly coming to his aid. Sabrina immediately forgot about John and his father; Quidditch was her great passion, and she never missed an opportunity to discuss it – preferably for hours – with anyone who was willing to listen.  
John sighed with relief and looked up at the High Table again. Professor Parkinson was sitting several seats away from his father, next to Professor Flitwick. She didn't seem interested in talking to him, however, but frequently threw annoyed glances at Professors Tonks and Lovegood, who were talking animatedly to Harry.  
  
Up at the High Table, Harry had also noticed that Pansy Parkinson seemed very interested in what was happening at his end of the table. He had a vague memory of having knocked her over earlier that day, as he was running to Tonks's office, and wondered fleetingly whether she was annoyed with him because of that.  
'Why on earth is Pansy Parkinson working here, anyway?' he said to Tonks and Luna. 'I thought she was going to marry Draco Malfoy.'  
Luna giggled. 'Oh, yes, she was. She waited for him for years, but I think she's finally given up on him now. Old Draco hasn't got quite all his marbles these days, or so they say.'  
'Yes,' Tonks said, smirking. 'He lives alone at Malfoy Manor and refuses to see anyone except his old cronies Crabbe and Goyle. He hasn't been out of the house for years. I always suspected that he was connected to the Death Eaters in some way, but nothing was ever proven. And he certainly doesn't seem to be up to anything like that nowadays.'  
'But is she really qualified to teach Potions?' Harry said incredulously.  
'Certainly not,' said Tonks. 'But it's really difficult to get anyone for the Potions job. Nobody wants to walk in Snape's footsteps.' Tonks's expression hardened. 'Not that I blame them – anyone who's been taught by him must have a lifelong revulsion for the subject. That ... that ... traitor!' Tonks took a sip of pumpkin juice from her goblet and Harry noticed that her hand was shaking. Luna was looking at her with a peculiar expression on her face, but she said nothing. Harry suddenly remembered that Snape was to blame for Remus Lupin's death as well, not just Ron's, Hermione's, Dumbledore's and countless others.  
'Shouldn't he have died by now?' Tonks whispered to Harry. Luna was talking to Professor Sinistra on her other side and Tonks didn't seem to want her to hear.  
'Sirius survived in Azkaban for twelve years,' Harry said slowly.  
'Well, Snape's been there fifteen now,' Tonks said fiercely, 'and he's not an Animagus like Sirius was. It should be more difficult for him to ward off the Dementors.'  
'Yes,' said Harry, 'but Snape's really good at Occlumency. That probably helps.'  
'I don't know how you can be so calm about this, Harry,' Tonks hissed. 'If it wasn't for Snape this whole thing with Ginny would probably never have happened. I've never wanted to use an Unforgivable Curse on anyone before, but if I had found him ... I'd have used the Killing Curse!'  
'I'm not calm about it, Tonks,' Harry said between clenched teeth. 'Believe you me, I'm not calm about it. I've only used a Killing Curse once in my life, and that was on Lucius Malfoy after that very incident. If Snape had been there, I'd have killed him first. But I'm never going to use an Unforgivable Curse again ... not even on him, if I should happen to meet him.'  
They were interrupted by Luna. 'So, tell me, Harry, when are you going to London?'  
'What?' Harry said, startled. 'I mean, I'm not going to London. Why would you think that?'  
'Oh, right – I saw that in the Orb ... Never mind,' Luna said quickly and turned back to Professor Sinistra.  
Tonks rolled her eyes. 'I told you; she makes all sorts of crazy predictions all the time. Don't pay any attention to her.'  
'Yes, she said I was alive, didn't she?' said Harry.  
Tonks was quiet for a moment. 'Yes, well ...' she said hesitantly. 'One prediction come true doesn't make up for all the rubbish she comes out with.'  
'One pretty big prediction, though,' Harry said, looking thoughtfully at Luna.  
  
Harry had thought he would have trouble sleeping that night, but he fell asleep as soon as he put his head on his pillow. This time he began dreaming about the dungeon-like room immediately. Harry had been troubled by the dream he had in the afternoon. To whom had that horrible, cruel laugh, which sounded so familiar to him, belonged? Harry wasn't sure. He hadn't given it that much attention either – he had been more interested in the first part of the dream, the part about Ginny.  
But Ginny wasn't part of the dream now. There was only that cold, bare room. Yet again he was unable to move, unable to see properly, but this time there were no muffled voices and no laugh. Harry dreamt about the room for a long time. He lay there, immobile, not even bothering to try to free himself, wondering if something would happen sooner or later ... But nothing did.  
He woke in the morning, feeling strangely tired despite the fact that he had slept for almost ten hours. His forehead prickled unpleasantly where his scar had used to be. These dreams were beginning to bother him, and he wished he could talk to someone about them; someone older and more experienced, like Sirius or Dumbledore. Perhaps he should mention the matter to Hagrid? But no, Hagrid had never been of much help in similar situations.  
It was Saturday, and Harry stayed in bed for a while, looking out of the window. The sky was grey, and it looked like it was going to rain. Suddenly, a tawny owl appeared outside the window, tapping on the glass with its beak. Harry got up quickly to let it in, and removed a note from its leg. He stared at the note. It was written in pink ink, and it reeked of perfume.  
  
_Dear Henry, _

_I think you owe me an apology for bumping into me so ungraciously yesterday, and not even stopping to apologise. I have therefore decided that you may buy me a drink at The Leaky Cauldron today at noon. _

_Don't keep me waiting, _

_Pansy Parkinson _


	15. North Tower

**Author's Note**: Thanks for the reviews!  
  
**Mela**&**risi**: you'll find out more about Harry's dreams eventually.  
  
**Flora**: Yes, Luna is a Seer. As for your other questions, I can't answer them right now, but you'll find out ...  
  
**Jeanne2**: I agree, Pansy is rude. And here's a whole chapter about Luna for you. As for your comment about Voldemort, I can't say anything about that ...  
  
**actionmaster**: Yes, poor John is being kept in the dark for an awfully long time here. He'll be back in a few chapters' time.  
  
**Artemis1860, Hakkai – Gojyo – Goku – Sanzo, alecatq**and all the others who mentioned Pansy: You'll be seeing more of Pansy soon.  
  
**Chapter 15  
  
North Tower  
**  
Harry stared at the letter. 'What the – ?' he said out loud. Go to London to have drinks with Pansy Parkinson – there was no way he was going to ruin his Saturday by doing that. He crumpled up the letter and threw it in the wastepaper basket. Then he suddenly remembered what Luna had said the night before at Dinner. She had asked him when he was going to London ... What exactly had Luna seen in the Orb? Harry shook his head and decided that he was going to have a talk with Luna right after breakfast.  
  
Harry had decided that on weekends, he wouldn't go down to the Great Hall for breakfast, but stay in his rooms and eat with Lily instead. On weekdays Lily had both breakfast and lunch with the Macmillans in Hogsmeade. Harry went to wake her up, and conjured up a meal for them on the table in their little living room.  
  
After breakfast Harry suggested that they walk up to North Tower to meet the Divination teacher, and Lily was immediately excited at the prospect and wanted to leave at once. Before they left, Harry took Pansy's letter out of the wastepaper basket, smoothed it out, and put it in his pocket.  
  
It took almost ten minutes to get from the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's rooms to North Tower, but Lily didn't seem to mind. She had only been on a quick tour of the castle so far, and still found the moving stairs, the talking paintings and the ghosts very exciting. When they had climbed the last few spiralling steps and reached the landing with the circular trap door, both Harry and Lily were panting. The brass plaque on the door still read 'Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher.'  
  
'Luna?' Harry called.  
  
There was a short pause, and Harry was just about to call again, when the trap door opened and a silvery ladder descended at their feet, just as it had years ago, when Harry had his first Divination lesson. Lily looked very impressed, and she and Harry both climbed the ladder up to the classroom.  
  
The room was still crammed with tables, chintz armchairs and pouffes, as it had been in Trelawney's days, but there were no crystal balls and teacups on the shelves, no perfumed fire and no red scarves covering the lamps. All the windows were open, and Luna was standing at one of them, tearing down the curtains. When she heard them enter the room, she turned around.  
  
'Hello, Harry,' she said, smiling dreamily.  
  
'Hello.' Harry looked around the room. 'You've been busy already, I see.'  
  
'Yes.' Luna threw the curtains on the floor, where there was already a big heap of old fabric. 'I've still got lots more to do though. You'll have to come back and have a look again when I'm done, too.'  
  
'We'd love to,' said Harry, looking at Lily, whose eyes were darting excitedly in every direction. 'This is my daughter, Lily. Lily, this is Professor Lovegood, an old friend of mine.'  
  
Luna smiled at Lily, who said politely, 'Nice to meet you, Professor Lovegood.'  
  
'Nice to meet you too,' said Luna, looking appraisingly at Lily. 'You have your father's eyes.'  
  
'Yes,' said Lily. 'Does that mean something particular? In Divination, I mean.'  
  
Luna shrugged. 'It might ... then again it might not. One can never be certain in Divination. Of anything.' She looked around searchingly, wrinkling her nose. 'What's that smell? I thought I'd finally got rid of all the fumes left by Trelawney.'  
  
Harry and Lily sniffed too.  
  
'It seems to be coming from you, Dad,' said Lily.  
  
'Oh ...' Harry said guiltily. He pulled out Pansy's letter. 'It must be this ...'  
  
'What is it?' said Lily.  
  
'Er ... just something I wanted to discuss with Professor Lovegood,' Harry said evasively. 'Lily, why don't you ...' He hesitated.  
  
'In the other room there's a big box full of crystal balls, teacups, playing cards and all sorts of strange things,' said Luna. 'If you want, Lily, you can go and have a look at it. If there's anything you like, you can keep it.'  
  
'All right.' Lily left the classroom.  
  
'Are you sure that's wise, letting a nine-year-old have all those things?' said Harry, looking doubtfully at Luna.  
  
'It's only Trelawney's old stuff,' Luna said dismissively. 'It's completely harmless. What did you want to talk about?'  
  
'Oh, right,' said Harry. He was about to hand the letter to Luna, then suddenly changed his mind. 'What, you mean you don't know already? I thought you'd have seen that in the Orb ages ago,' he said with a smile.  
  
Luna sighed and sat down in one of the armchairs. 'As I said,' she said patiently, with the air of someone who had had to explain this countless times before, 'Divination is a very imprecise branch of Magic. I can't just look into the Orb and see everything that's going to happen to a person. It would be pretty boring if I could. So, no, I have no idea why you're here.'  
  
Harry sat down on the pouffe next to Luna's armchair and thrust the letter at her. She eyed through it quickly. Harry had expected her to laugh, or at least smile, but her dreamy expression didn't change at all.  
  
'Are you going?' she said after a while.  
  
'You tell me,' Harry said irritably.  
  
'As I said – ' Luna began, but Harry interrupted her.  
  
'Yes, yes, Divination is a very imprecise branch of Magic, I know. But you_have_seen something about me going to London, haven't you? If you already know I'm going, there's no point in our discussing whether I should or not.'  
  
Luna was quiet for a moment, but Harry was startled to see that her dreamy expression had suddenly been replaced by a closed, guarded one. He had never seen Luna look like that.  
  
'What I may or may not have seen in the Orb is of no importance here,' she said finally. 'It would be very dangerous if you let your decisions be influenced by what I had seen in the Orb. Besides, the fact that I have seen something doesn't mean that it is definitely going to happen. The future is very complex and frequently prone to change. Hence, as Tonks likes to refer to it, all the "rubbish" I come out with. In my early career as a Seer I sometimes made the mistake of thinking that all my predictions would come true – I was a bit gullible. But now I know better.'  
  
Harry looked at Luna, whose expression was still inscrutable. It reminded him of someone, but he wasn't quite sure who. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. And you're right, of course. It's just that ... I've had so much on my mind lately, and now Pansy wants me to take her out for drinks on top of everything ...'  
  
'That's quite all right,' said Luna. 'I can't say I'd be very pleased if I got a similar letter ...'  
  
'So, do you think I should go?'  
  
Luna thought for a while. 'Well, she doesn't know that it's you, Harry, so as far as she's concerned you don't know anything about her. She'll probably be pretty insulted if you turn her down.'  
  
Harry sighed. 'Yeah, you've got a point there. So I guess I'll have to go, then.'  
  
'You could just buy her a quick drink, and then say that you're busy and have to go,' Luna suggested.  
  
Harry nodded and looked at his watch. 'What about Lily – I don't just want to leave her alone in the castle ...'  
  
'I'll be happy to take her,' Luna said. 'I'm sure we'll think of something fun to do. It'll give me an excuse to postpone the cleaning.'  
  
'Thanks a lot, Luna.' Harry got up. 'Well, I'd better get going. I'll be as quick as I can.'  
  
'Oh, take your time,' said Luna. 'I mean, while you're in London you might as well take the opportunity of doing something else after you've got rid of Pansy. You know, do some shopping or something.'  
  
'Well, if you're sure you don't mind I might just take a quick look in Flourish & Blotts,' said Harry.  
  
He went to say Goodbye to Lily, who was still digging her way through the box of Trelawney's old things, and didn't in the least mind being left with Luna. Then he started climbing down the silvery ladder again.  
  
As he took one last glance at Luna, who was still sitting in the armchair, Harry suddenly remembered who she had reminded him of earlier. It was Snape. That closed, inscrutable expression – that was how Snape had always looked. He stopped and looked up at her again, quickly, but Luna was wearing her usual, dreamy expression again.  
  
'Goodbye, Harry,' she said, smiling.  
  
'Goodbye,' said Harry, frowning slightly. For a fleeting moment he felt as though he was leaving his child in danger, but then he shook his head. This was Luna Lovegood – she wasn't dangerous. 


	16. One Slytherin to Another

**Chapter 16**

**One Slytherin to Another**

Harry walked out of the castle grounds and Apparated to Diagon Alley. It was almost twelve o'clock, so he went straight to The Leaky Cauldron. He walked up to the bar and ordered a Butterbeer; he had considered ordering a Firewhisky at first, thinking he'd probably need one if he was going to get through this, but then he decided that it was better to face Pansy in as sober a state as possible. Besides, it was ages since he'd had a Butterbeer.

He sat down, beginning to plan his afternoon in Diagon Alley; apart from when he'd come here to buy John his school things, he hadn't been to any of the shops since before the Defeat, and now he was looking forward to it very much.

A whiff of the same perfume that had been on his letter told him that Pansy had entered the pub, but before he had time to turn around, a pair of well manicured hands were placed over his eyes from behind.

'Guess who!' Pansy said cheerfully.

'Professor Parkinson,' said Harry levelly.

'Oh no, Henry,' said Pansy, now sitting down opposite him, 'you must call me Pansy!'

'Well, Pansy,' said Harry softly, 'first let me apologise for bumping into you yesterday. I was in a bit of a hurry and didn't look where I was going. And now, what can I get you?'

'Oh, never mind yesterday. I'll have a redcurrant rum, please!'

Harry was smiling politely as he came back from the bar with Pansy's drink.

'What, aren't you having anything?' Pansy asked.

'Oh, I've still got some Butterbeer left,' said Harry, 'and I can't stay long anyway; I need to get back to my daughter soon. I promised her I'd help her with her homework.'

Pansy looked disappointed, but did her best to hide it. 'Oh, you've got a little girl as well?' she exclaimed. 'How lovely! I _adore_ children, you know.'

'Well, it's a good thing you're a teacher, then,' said Harry, then added, 'You've been at Hogwarts for quite a while, haven't you?'

'Yes, you could almost say I'm one of the oldies now,' Pansy said and gave a girlish laugh.

'So what qualifications does one need to teach Potions?' Harry asked, this time out of real interest. 'Isn't it a very difficult subject?'

'Yes, but I had a good teacher ... Professor Snape. You wouldn't know him, would you, not having gone to Hogwarts yourself. He was Head of Slytherin too; my old House, you know, and by far the best if I do say so myself ...'

'What makes you think I didn't go to Hogwarts?' said Harry.

'You ... you did?' Pansy swallowed. 'But I thought ... I mean I can't remember ever seeing you. You can't be that much older than me, can you? After all, I left fifteen years ago ...'

'Oh, I left twenty-two years ago,' Harry lied coolly. 'That must have been right before you started.'

'Oh ... oh ...' Pansy hesitated

Harry was forced to lie to Pansy to keep his cover as Henry Evans, but for some reason he was also amused by the fact that he had managed to unnerve her. He pushed any feelings of guilt away and even took pleasure in seeing the confused expression on Pansy's face, as she tried desperately to work out what this meant.

'So ... er ... so, what House were you in?' Pansy stammered.

Harry opened his mouth to say Gryffindor, but, instead, heard himself say, 'Slytherin.' He paused. What on Earth had made him say it? But then he saw the relieved look on Pansy's face, who obviously felt much more comfortable again, now that she was dealing with a fellow Slytherin, and went on recklessly. 'Yes, Professor Snape was my Head of House too,' he said, doing his utmost not to betray his feelings of hatred for the man. 'I seem to remember that he was on good terms with the Malfoys, isn't that right?'

Pansy turned slightly pink. 'Er ... did you know any of the Malfoys?'

'Not in person, no,' said Harry, who was beginning to enjoy this more and more. Pansy was really gullible; he could probably make her believe anything. 'But the family have done such great things for the Wizarding community, don't you think?'

'Yes, certainly,' said Pansy nervously.

'You wouldn't happen to know what's become of them? I know Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy died in the war, but didn't they have a son – Draco?'

'Well, actually,' Pansy said, smiling importantly, 'Draco and I were at Hogwarts together.'

'Were you really?' said Harry in mock surprise.

'Yes. He was madly in love with me, as a matter of fact.' Pansy was toying coyly with a strand of her hair. 'Desperate to marry me.'

'But you didn't marry?' said Harry.

'Well, no ...' Pansy thought for a moment. _I_ didn't want to marry _him_, you see. I always thought I could do better ... wouldn't you agree, Henry?' She batted her eyelids at him.

Harry took another sip of his Butterbeer and tried to avoid looking directly at Pansy, but she seemed to be on a roll now – the conversation was clearly going where she wanted it to go.

'It's a shame you have to go so early,' she said, 'but we must do this again soon. We Slytherins must stick together, you know. There aren't that many of us these days, are there?'

'I suppose you're right,' Harry said smoothly. 'Most of us were killed by Dumbledore's side in the war, or are in Azkaban ... like dear old Professor Snape.'

'Yes ...' said Pansy. 'I'm surprised he let the Aurors catch him, though. He was really clever, wasn't he?'

'Yes, very,' Harry said, his expression hard and immobile, but Pansy didn't notice.

'I've always wondered whether he was on the Dark Lord's side all along, or whether he did betray him to the Order of the Phoenix, and then changed his mind and went back to him,' she said.

'Yes, that's what everyone's wondering, isn't it?' This conversation was going in a direction Harry didn't like, but curiosity stopped him from changing the subject.

'You know,' said Pansy, leaning closer towards him over the table, 'I always thought that if there was one Death Eater who could escape from Azkaban, it would be him.'

Harry stared at her. 'You think he's going to escape?' he said incredulously.

Pansy laughed. 'Oh, I'm not saying he's _going_ to do it. I just think that he's the only one who'd be able to pull it off.'

'Why?'

'Well ... let's just say he's got friends who'd take care of him if he got out.'

'Friends?' said Harry. 'You mean friends like Draco Malfoy?'

Pansy laughed again. 'Oh, no. Draco Malfoy would never let Snape into his house. Ever. But there are others ... I'm not going to name any names ...' She smiled coyly.

Harry stared at her in disbelief. Did Pansy really know something? Or was she just speculating? He wondered whether he should try to question her further, but decided that it would be better not to do so right now. He had to think through thoroughly everything that she had said first. Besides, now that she thought he was a fellow Slytherin, there would probably be lots more opportunities to talk to her about this subject.

'Well, I really must get going now,' said Harry, draining his glass and rising.

'Oh, I'll go now, too,' said Pansy, 'I've got some shopping to do now that I'm here in Diagon Alley.'

'Well, I suppose I'll see you back at Hogwarts,' said Harry, taking a few steps backwards. Pansy was standing dangerously close to him, leaning towards him.

'Oh, well ...' Pansy looked disappointed. 'Thanks for the drink then ...'

'Bye!' Harry turned around and walked out of The Leaky Cauldron as fast as he could. Within seconds, he was standing on a busy street in Muggle London.

His plans to spend the afternoon in Diagon Alley had been thwarted, as Pansy was going to do some shopping there, but Harry didn't really care. After his conversation with Pansy he didn't feel like browsing through shops – he needed to do some thinking. He started walking at a brisk pace, not caring where he went.

What Pansy had said had unsettled Harry deeply. At first he had thought it rather fun, pretending to her that he was a Slytherin. He had done it to make Pansy uncomfortable – he hadn't expected her to confide in him the way she had, talking about Draco Malfoy, Death Eaters and Voldemort. Voldemort ... Since his return to the Magical World Harry had been surprised to notice that no one seemed afraid to say his name these days. But Pansy hadn't said Voldemort – she had said _The Dark Lord_. Just like the Death Eaters always had done. Just like Snape had always done ...

Snape – why did everything keep coming back to him? Tonks, the night before at Dinner, wondering why he wasn't dead yet. Luna, this morning, wearing an expression that reminded Harry so much of Snape's cold, inscrutable face. And now Pansy, thinking that he might be able to escape from Azkaban.

Was Pansy really as stupid as Harry had thought she was? Or was it all an act? Did she know something – something about Snape? But even if she did, Harry couldn't see how Snape could possibly escape from Azkaban. If so, why hadn't he done it earlier? Harry frowned. Pansy must know _something_ – either that or she was pretending that she knew something. But what could it be? And, more importantly, who were the 'friends' she had been talking of; the friends who'd take care of Snape if he escaped? It wasn't Draco Malfoy, she had made that perfectly clear. So, who else could it be?

Suddenly, Harry caught sight of something that drove all thoughts of Snape and Pansy out of his head. It was a telephone box. But it wasn't just any ordinary telephone box – it was an old red one, which was missing several panes of glass, and was standing in front of a heavily graffitied wall. It was the telephone box which led to the Ministry of Magic.

There was only one thought in Harry's mind at seeing this telephone box. Ginny. Ginny was Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ginny worked here. Slowly he started walking towards the telephone box, but when he was only a yard away he stopped. He had promised himself that he wouldn't look her up. Ginny's face was there, right in front of him, as he looked at the telephone box, but he couldn't do it. He turned around, quickly, before he had time to change his mind, and walked away at a brisk pace.

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**Author's Note**: Thanks a lot for reviewing, **Jeanne2, Me, RandiWeasley, Hakkai – Gojyo – Goku – Sanzo, dark fire chain, valentines-hater** and **alecatq**!

**Jeanne2**: Sorry, can't tell you anymore than I already have about Snape! But at least you got to read about him in this chapter, and he'll be back again.

Talking about Snape – I don't know if any of you noticed that there was a reference or two to chapter 7 in this chapter. But then, of course, there was one in the last chapter as well ... hint hint ;)

A few of you were wondering about Luna ... Well, there isn't much I can tell you about her either without giving away too much. But I promise you'll see more of her.

So, what did you think of this chapter? I must confess I rather like it myself. I enjoy writing Pansy. Any questions? Please let me know!


	17. Plans in Motion

**Chapter 17**

**Plans in Motion**

In the gloomy corridors of Azkaban, dark shapes could be seen moving around, gliding. There were many of them: about twenty or so only in that small part which constituted the high risk ward. Nobody could fathom what the Dementors of Azkaban were really thinking at any given time – if, indeed, they were thinking at all – but an onlooker would describe them as gloating if he or she were still able to form any thoughts in their presence.

They were gloating at the misfortune of those imprisoned in this ward in particular, and came there often to make sure that there were no happy thoughts whatsoever in any of the dark, dirty little cells. And they hardly ever found any happy thoughts. The lack of happiness made them frustrated – or something similar to that – and some of them came dangerously close to sucking the souls of the inmates: to give them the Dementor's Kiss.

But they weren't allowed to, although hardly anyone would miss these people if that should happen. The Minister for Magic didn't want it, and the Dementors needed him now that the Dark Lord was gone; they needed this refuge where they could relish on what little happiness there was among the prisoners. So they kept gliding around, trying to sense what the inmates were thinking, trying to suck the joy out of them but not daring to get too close.

As the Dementors moved away from his cell, Severus Snape slowly, cautiously, allowed his thoughts and emotions to wash in over his brain again. This was becoming insufferable. It _was_ insufferable, and had been for a long time, but now it was becoming absolutely necessary to do something, or else it would be too late. Yes, he needed to act now. Fifteen years was far too long. He had work to do ... He had to get out ...

Contacting the girl, the only person he could rely on, had proved impossible – he had tried again and again. Now he had taken even more desperate measures – he had tried to contact the boy. Despite everything, Snape had actually had a small hope that this would work. But even if it did, there was one unsurmountable problem – the boy didn't trust him. The boy resented him, hated him even, and would never consent to help him. Unless, of course, the girl convinced him otherwise. Would she be able to do that? Had she been able to convince anyone else during the past fifteen years? Snape doubted it. After all, she was a gullible little fool – who would believe her?

No, he needed to act on his own; he would have to give up on her. And on him too. The situation was becoming desperate, he had sensed that. Soon there might be no hope left ... He couldn't let that happen. There was only one course for him to take – breaking out of Azkaban with the aid of the other Death Eaters.

He had considered doing it for months, but he had stalled as long as possible. For the last few days he had hoped against hope that he might be able to get in touch with the boy. But he could no longer wait for the boy to respond, although he thought he had been so close ... so very close. But then, it might all have been his imagination. There was no spare time left now – he had to put his plan in motion.

The day before, the Dementors had moved Bellatrix Lestrange into the cell next to Snape's. It was almost as though this were a sign that he should go ahead with his plan. Bellatrix was the leader of the Death Eaters – if they had a leader at all in their present state. Deranged fools, all of them. How the Dark Lord could have trusted them, he didn't know. At any rate, Bellatrix was the person Snape needed to talk to. He took a deep breath. He had better begin right away. It would be difficult to convince her, but it would probably be easier to deal with her now, while she was still weakened by the visit from the Dementors.

He moved to a corner of his cell, where he had spent the last few months shifting rocks, so that there was now a slight hole in the wall between his cell and the neighbouring one. Another stroke of luck, or perhaps rather a sign that this was the course to take. For what if he had tried the other wall? Then it would have taken him another few months to get through to Bellatrix. The hole didn't go all the way through, but it was so deep that he would be able to have a conversation with the occupant of the other cell without anyone else hearing. Snape removed the stone he had placed in front of the hole to keep it from view (not that that was necessary, as the Dementors were blind, but one could never be too cautious).

'Bellatrix,' he said calmly.

There was no reply. He waited for a while, and then tried again. 'Bellatrix.'

Suddenly, he could hear heavy breathing on the other side of the hole. 'Who's there?' said Bellatrix's hoarse voice.

'It's Severus,' said Snape, and cautiously moved a few feet away from the wall. This turned out to be a good idea, because when Bellatrix answered him she was screaming at the top of her voice.

'You traitorous bastard! Go to Hell! I never want to hear your voice again, you lying traitor, you murderer! You betrayed the Dark Lord!' Bellatrix began sobbing. 'You b-betrayed him. He's d-dead b-because of you! I wish I c-could reach through this w-wall and _KILL_ you!'

Luckily it was not at all unusual for Bellatrix to behave this way; otherwise the Dementors would probably have been there in no time. As it was, however, they were quite used to hearing her voice, the sound of her shrieks spreading throughout the gloomy gaol, and could no longer be bothered to come and investigate what it was all about.

Snape waited patiently while Bellatrix ranted on for several more minutes. What a fool she was! Completely useless without her precious Dark Lord. And she thought she knew so much about Snape and his allegiances. Snape laughed softly to himself.

In reality, there were only three people in the world who had ever known exactly whose side Snape had really been on: Snape himself, the Dark Lord, and Albus Dumbledore. All the others – the Death Eaters, the members of the Order of the Phoenix, yes, everyone, had been unsure about him towards the end of the war. And that was hardly surprising considering what his orders had been.

But the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, they had known. One of them had known all along, and the other had been told right before the famous Penultimate Battle – the great battle in which the Dark Lord had defeated Dumbledore. That had been followed by the Final Battle; Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord once and for all, and ended the war.

And then Snape had been left alone – both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore gone, neither of them having told their followers whose side Snape was really on. And so both sides had turned on him, the members of the Order convinced that he had betrayed Dumbledore, and the Death Eaters convinced that he had betrayed the Dark Lord to Harry Potter.

Snape snorted contemptuously. As if he had needed to do that. After Potter's precious mentor had been killed, he had been perfectly able of seeking out and killing the Dark Lord on his own, without any aid from Snape, and more than willing to do so. And there had still been no real proof as to what side Snape was on.

If only Snape hadn't got involved in that last Death Eater attack – the attack on Potter's best friends. Knowing the important work he had to do, he should have stayed out of that one, not risk getting caught. That had given the Aurors enough evidence of his guilt to put him in Azkaban without a trial.

But it was no use crying over spilt potion – what was done was done. He had spent fifteen years paying for his mistakes, and now he would have to set them right, before it was too late. Even if that meant playing foul – even if it meant risking everything.

Bellatrix seemed to have run out of breath and her ranting had ceased. Snape decided to give it another try.

'If you're done cursing at me,' he said smoothly, 'perhaps you'd like to take a moment and listen to what I have to say.'

'I don't want to hear anything from you, you –' Bellatrix began, but before she got any further, Snape cut her off.

'Fine,' he said indifferently. 'I just thought you might be interested in hearing how we're going to get out of here ...'

There was a long silence. Finally, Bellatrix said quietly, 'What do you mean?'

Snape smirked. That had got her attention. He told her his plan, and left her to think about it, carefully replacing the stone in front of the hole. He took a deep breath. It was done. It was finally done. He was going to get out of Azkaban.

He would finally be able to tell someone about the secret he had been forced to keep to himself for fifteen years ...

**Author's Note**: Thank you all so much for the reviews – many of you had requested to hear more about Snape, so here it is. Please tell me what you thought.

I was surprised that no one was disappointed about Harry walking away from the telephone box in Chapter 16 – I certainly was, so perhaps I'll have him turn around again in the next chapter ... But then again, perhaps not. I ... haven't quite decided yet. ;)

I'm glad you liked Pansy, because she will be back later on, and I really like writing her.

**risi**: Yes, Luna and her Orb will be back in a few chapters.

**valentines-hater**: No, Snape isn't a vampire. Have I written something which made you believe so?

**Dius Corvus**: Thanks for a really detailed and thought-through review! Yes, I have a plan and I know exactly where I'm going. You're right about Harry, he's not as mature as he might be. He simply couldn't cope with the trauma after all his friends – and Ginny – had died, and never dealt with it while he was living as a Muggle. You could almost say he was living in complete denial. That is also why he hasn't asked some questions which are rather close at hand. Tonks, I think, is quite different from the Tonks we know from OotP. You'll find out more about her later.

**Silverthreads**: Not being from the States, I don't know what a Valley-girl is ... But thanks!

**Sierra**: I'm afraid I won't have time to update _Changes _before you leave, but don't worry, -there won't be all that much Harry-Snape interaction in that chapter anyway.

Once again, thanks a lot for the reviews, **Artemis 1860, risi, dark fire chain, Anna, alecatq, Randi Weasley, Adenara Yatman, Silverthreads, valentines-hater, Enclave, Dius Corvus, KiwiJeanne **and** Katkit!**


	18. The Seventh Level

**Chapter 18**

**The Seventh Level**

Harry had walked about fifty yards when he stopped and turned around. What an incredible coincidence, walking aimlessly through Muggle London, and ending up at the entrance to the Ministry! He could see the telephone box still ... Would they be using the same number now as they had ... back then?

He started walking slowly back to the entrance. There wouldn't be a lot of people there today; it was Saturday, after all. Ginny wouldn't be there. She'd be at home – with Colin. It wouldn't hurt him if he tried. He could dial the number and not say anything ...

He walked determinedly towards the telephone box, went inside, and closed the door. Six – two – four – four – two ... Yes, it was the right number; just like then, Harry was asked to state his name and business.

'Harry Evans, er ... just taking a look around,' Harry stammered hesitantly. A square silver badge with 'Harry Evans, sightseeing' on it appeared in the metal chute just as Harry had expected. Before the telephone-box floor began to sink into the ground, however, the cool female voice went on talking and said, 'Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.'

Present his wand – Harry had forgotten about that. What if they realised that he was using Harry Potter's wand? That would seem rather suspicious. Well, it was too late to do anything about it now. If anyone suspected something, he'd have to make up an excuse – he was getting quite good at that, Harry mused, thinking of his date with Pansy – and Hagrid or Tonks would probably back him up.

The telephone box came to a halt, the door sprang open, and Harry stepped out into the Atrium. He hadn't been here since before the Defeat, and he looked around interestedly. Where the Fountain of Magical Brethren had once stood, there was now an enormous, golden statue. Harry couldn't see exactly what it portrayed, so he walked closer.

He stopped in front of it, looking up at the unnaturally large and triumphant-looking face of Ludo Bagman, the Minister for Magic. He looked much younger than he had done fifteen years ago, when Harry had last met him, and he was wearing his Wimbourne Wasps Quidditch robes and holding a Beater's bat. Surrounding the statue of Bagman was a group of smaller statues, portraying ordinary witches and wizards who were looking up at Bagman in awe and admiration.

Harry snorted contemptuously. Bagman had really gone over the top with this one. This statue didn't seem much better than the Fountain of Magical Brethren to Harry. The fountain had represented something that wasn't true – so did this. From what he had heard so far, Bagman was far from an ideal Minister for Magic ... yet it didn't seem like people questioned him, otherwise they wouldn't have let him place this hideous statue in such a central place in the Wizarding World.

Harry turned his back on the statue and went over to the security desk to present his wand for registration. The security witch gave him a bored look as she took his wand, then simply confirmed that it was eleven inches with a phoenix feather core and had been in use for twenty-one years. When Harry nodded, she handed the wand back to him, still looking bored, and picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet and started reading.

Feeling relieved, Harry quickly walked through the golden gates that led to the lifts, stepping into one of them right before the golden grilles closed. He was alone in the lift – unless you counted one single paper airplane as company – and as it started moving, he wondered what he should do now that he was here. Where was he going? Suddenly, the cool voice from the telephone box spoke again. 'Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports ...' Harry didn't hear the rest of the announcement. His heart was racing, but he wasn't going to get out here. Definitely not.

The lift doors opened, and Harry remained firmly planted where he was. But then, right before the doors closed, he stepped out of the lift. There was no point in pretending – he had known he would do it all along. This must have been what Luna had seen in the Orb; him at the Ministry of Magic. That was why she had been so unwilling to tell him about her premonition. He walked down the corridor, which looked tidier than it had last time he had seen it.

Then he reached the door he had been looking for. 'Ginevra Creevey, Head of Department,' read a sign on it. Harry remained standing in front of the door, paralysed. Ginny's office. This was where she worked. Every day, she came here. He leaned against the wall, feeling almost dizzy at the thought of standing somewhere where Ginny had probably been only yesterday. Thankfully, she wouldn't be here today. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

Without warning, the door in front of him suddenly flew open.

'Oh, hello.' It was Ginny. Harry noticed that one of his legs was shaking. Ginny. She was ... beautiful. It did show that she was older; she looked more mature, more serious than the happy Ginny he had known back then. But she was still beautiful. She stopped as she saw him. 'Is there anything I can do for you?'

Harry stared at her, utterly speechless. What was she doing here on a Saturday? No, this wasn't supposed to be happening! He wasn't supposed to meet her. Ginny simply stood there, looking at him quizzically, obviously not recognising him. She was completely unaware that she was standing in front of her former boyfriend whom she had believed dead for fifteen years.

'Er ...' said Harry. But then he realised that he had to pull himself together; if he kept staring at Ginny like this she might begin to suspect something. So far, there was really no harm done, except to his own feelings, but under no circumstances must Ginny find out who he really was. 'Er ... I ... er ...' he paused. 'I recognised your name on the door ...' he stammered. 'I didn't think you'd be here ... I'm Henry Evans, Ron's new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.'

'Oh, Professor Evans!' Ginny exclaimed. 'I had an owl from Ron this morning telling me about your first class. He was very enthusiastic. Please come in – I was just going to make myself a cup of tea.'

'Er ... no, I'd better not ... I have to ... er ...' Harry swallowed, staring at Ginny's beautiful red hair. He suddenly had a feeling of complete unreality. Here he was with Ginny, talking to her as though she were a complete stranger, when once she had been the most important person in the world to him. Here she was, actually standing right before him, when only a few days ago he had believed her dead. He tried, desperately, to think of something to say, but words failed him and all he could do was to produce some incoherent stuttering.

'Oh, but please do!' Ginny interrupted him. 'Our sons are such good friends. I won't keep you long, I promise.'

'Well ...' Harry knew that he shouldn't do it, but he was already on his way into the office. Ginny indicated that he should take a seat and Harry sat down on a rather comfortable armchair.

'The European Championships will be held here next summer,' Ginny said as she conjured up some tea and biscuits and took a seat opposite Harry. 'We only just found out; Moldavia was supposed to host the tournament but there was a big scandal at their Ministry, and we offered to take over instead ...' Ginny looked rather harassed as she said this; it was obvious that the decision hadn't been hers, but probably an overenthusiastic Ludo Bagman's. 'So that's why I'm here on a Saturday,' she finished.

Harry looked at her desk, having calmed down a bit. He would only stay for a few minutes. He would make meaningless small talk, and then he would leave. Ginny would never find out that he was alive. Or would she? Would Ginny recognise him sooner or later, even if he tried to deceive her the way he had Pansy only an hour ago?

There were several photographs on Ginny's desk, most of them portraying Ron and two younger, similar-looking boys in different locations, and one with another face he recognised: Colin Creevey. He was smiling, looking annoyingly happy, holding a camera in his hand. Colin, Ginny's husband. Harry could feel himself shaking again. He looked away quickly, but Ginny had already noticed what he was looking at.

'That's my husband, Colin, and my two younger boys. They'll be coming to Hogwarts too in a few years. I do hope you'll be staying on as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. It's been decades since anyone stayed for more than a year. We're all so pleased that Hagrid's finally found someone good for the post.'

'Oh, well it's a pleasure working at Hogwarts,' said Harry, surprised at the calm sound of his voice.

'Yes, I'm sure it must be. When were you at Hogwarts yourself?'

Harry hesitated. Perhaps he should tell Ginny that he hadn't gone to Hogwarts at all? But no, John might already have told Ron that he had. 'I left in 1997,' he said, looking scrutinisingly at Ginny. Would she recognise him now?

'Oh, I left in 1998,' she said, smiling at him. She didn't seem to realise who he was at all. 'You must have been in another House, though, because I don't recognise you.'

'I was in Gryffindor,' said Harry. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and again, he didn't know why he said it. Just as he hadn't known why he had lied to Pansy, he didn't know why he was telling Ginny the truth. He must be mad. Now Ginny was bound to recognise him.

But Ginny simply looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face. 'But that's impossible,' she said. 'My brother Ron was in Gryffindor that year, and there were only four other boys in our House – Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and Harry Potter. You must be mistaken.'

Was it Harry's imagination, or did Ginny's voice shake slightly when she said his name?

There was a pause, and then Harry said, steadily,'No, I'm not.' Now. She had to realise now.

But Ginny just looked at him, shaking her head slightly. How could she, of all people, not recognise him after he had given almost everything away? Hagrid, Tonks and Luna had recognised him almost immediately. So how come Ginny, who had loved him once, didn't?

Harry knew that he ought to take back what he had said, tell her that he had made a mistake, that he had left another year, been in another House, anything. But he simply couldn't. Instead, he said the one thing that he had been repeating in his mind from the moment he had stepped into this office, over and over again,

'Ginny, it's me. Harry.'

Author's Note: Thank you so much for your reviews – **valentineshater, Larna Mandrea, Artemis 1860, Ezmerelda, Jeanne2, Dius Corvus, Randi Weasley, Me, risi, Ava, alecatq, Adenara Yatman**, **Katkit **and** Enclave. **I appreciate your feedback very much.

**Larna Mandrea**: Sorry, I just couldn't drag it out any more! There's still a lot to come in this story and it was time for Harry and Ginny to meet now. I hope you liked it anyway.

**Jeanne2** & **Dius Corvus **&** all those of you who asked about or commented on Snape**: Hehe, I'm glad I've succeeded! evil grin It will take a while before you find out whose side Snape is really on.

**Randi Weasley**: You're asking some really good questions here, which I'm not going to answer ... yet! ;)

**Ezmerelda**: You'll get to meet Colin in a few chapters' time.


	19. A Long Lost Love

**Author's Note: **Thanks to Dius Corvus for feedback on this chapter. And also, thanks to all those of you who reviewed the last chapter; I don't have time to comment on your reviews individually this time. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. :)

**Chapter 19**

**A Long Lost Love**

Ginny stared at him in disbelief. 'What are you talking about?'

Harry sighed. 'It's me. Harry Potter.' He had wanted to tell her ever since she had opened the door to her office, just as he had wanted to tell Hagrid and Tonks as soon as he saw them. But no – he really wanted to tell Ginny even more than he had wanted to tell them.

'That's not funny,' Ginny said shrilly.

'But it's true.'

Ginny rose swiftly from her seat, walked around the desk to the door and put her hand on the door knob. 'You're crazy. I don't know who the Hell you are – but get out of my office right now!'

Harry rose from his seat and turned to look at her. 'I'm not crazy, and I'm not joking. Can't you tell it's me? Tonks and Luna recognised me almost immediately.'

'I said, get out of my office.' Ginny's voice was shaking.

Harry approached her, but she took out her wand, taking a step backwards. Her eyes were flashing.

'Don't you dare touch me!' she snapped.

'Look me in the eyes, Ginny,' Harry said with forced calm. 'Look me in the eyes – can't you see they're my eyes? My mother's eyes?'

'You are sick!' Ginny said, pointing her wand straight at his heart. 'You should be locked up in St Mungo's, get your head examined!'

Harry didn't know what to do. He hadn't expected this – it had all been so easy with Hagrid, Tonks and Luna; he had expected it to be the same with Ginny, perhaps a little more painful. Or a lot, even, but not like this. When he came here, he had felt sorry for himself, but now he was simply desperate to make Ginny believe that it was really him. What could he possibly say to convince her?

'Remember when we were in the Chamber of Secrets?' He said gently, pleadingly, 'remember how we took Lockhart back up into the castle, without his memory? And remember at 12 Grimmauld Place, when you used to throw Dungbombs at the door to check if we could use the Extendable Ears? And when I thought I was possessed by Voldemort you told me I wasn't, because you knew exactly what it felt like to be possessed by him – '

'Anyone could have told you that!' Ginny interrupted him. 'Anyone could have found out about those things. It wouldn't be difficult.'

'And when I needed to talk to Sirius,' Harry went on as though she hadn't said anything, 'you and Fred and George came up with the plan of using the fire in Umbridge's office. And that last spring, when we were sitting by the lake and I told you I loved you for the first time ...' his voice faltered. This wasn't working; Ginny was still staring at him as though he were crazy.

'Shut up!' she spat, fury burning in her eyes. 'I don't know how you found out about all this, but it doesn't make any difference – I don't believe you, I never will! And – and – how dare you desecrate the memory of Harry Potter this way! You're not worthy to even utter his name!' Her eyes now had that particular glitter which only tears can give.

Harry looked at her, desperately. Why wouldn't she believe him? He took a deep breath, and, heedless of her wand, he stepped swiftly towards her, grabbed her and pulled her close to him, and before she could object, kissed her. At first, she tried to push him away, but then she gave in. After a long while they let go of each other. Ginny looked at him, and he could see that she believed him now.

'Harry?' she said breathlessly. He noticed, for the first time, some thin lines around her eyes, almost imperceptible: lines caused by laughter – but there were also worry lines on her forehead and around her mouth, lines Harry had hoped, that time by the lake, would never be there in Ginny's face.

He nodded. 'Yes, Harry,' he whispered tenderly.

She stepped away from him, leaning against the door, breathing heavily. She was staring at him as if she had seen a ghost, her face pale behind the freckles. For a while, no one said anything. Harry didn't know what to say to her. Then, Ginny took a sudden step forward, raised her hand, and slapped Harry's face. There was a moment of silence and then she shouted, 'You ... you _bastard_! Where the _Hell_ have you been for the past fifteen years?!?'

Harry looked at her guiltily, at a loss for words.

'If you've been alive all this time, how could you not tell me?!' Ginny went on shouting. 'You thoughtless, egocentric bastard! How could you do this to me? Do you have _any_ idea what I went through when I found out you were dead?'

'Yes, I do,' said Harry quietly.

'Yeah –?' said Ginny, firing up again, but before she could go on Harry interrupted her.

'Yeah. Because I thought _you_ were dead.'

There was a ringing silence as Ginny stared at him in confusion. Then Harry sat down, and slowly began telling her the whole story of what had happened after the Death Eater attack. When he had finished, they were both quiet for a while.

'So it was only yesterday I found out that you were still alive,' he added. 'When I saw Ron. He brought a photograph of you with him to class ... but I think I must have suspected it even before I saw it; he looks so much like you.'

'Do you think so?' Ginny sobbed. She had begun to cry halfway through his story. 'I've always thought he looks so much like ... like Ron. _Our_ Ron, I mean.'

'Yes, you're right,' Harry said. 'He really looks like a Weasley. Like Ron.'

Ginny blew her nose, and then took a deep breath. 'So. What do we do now?'

'Nothing,' Harry said flatly. 'What's there to do? I go back to Hogwarts as Henry Evans, and you go back to ... you go home.'

'You ... you're married?' Ginny said without looking at him.

'My wife is dead,' Harry said calmly. 'I have two children.'

'I'm sorry, Harry.'

Harry looked at her, thinking of what might have been. He wasn't quite sure what she was sorry for.

He rose, and went to the door. 'Perhaps it would be easier for us both if ... if we never saw each other again.'

Ginny hesitated. 'Yes, I suppose you're right.'

'Well ... bye then. And good luck. With everything.' He took one last look at her and opened the door.

'Harry?'

'Yes,' he said, without turning around.

'I'm glad you're alive.'

'I'm glad you're alive too.' He walked out and closed the door behind him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry walked to the lifts like a zombie, without thinking, without allowing himself to feel anything. As soon as he was out of the building he Apparated straight to Hogsmeade, and walked quickly towards the castle. He wasn't going to think about it. It would hurt too much. A thought flashed across his mind for an instant, a second only – _I'm not glad_, he thought._ I'm not glad she's alive_. He recoiled from it a mere moment later. Ginny, his Ginny – of course he wanted her to be alive ... He just couldn't bear the thought of her being married to Colin Creevey – and, even worse, the thought of never being able to see her again.

He walked up the stairs to North Tower. He would get Lily – as long as he was with Lily he would have to keep it together. He couldn't allow himself to break down in front of his daughter. But at the foot of the ladder, he paused, shaking, unable to move. He couldn't go through with this. He couldn't face Lily, or Luna for that matter. He leaned against the cold stone wall and closed his eyes, trying, desperately, to think of something else, to push the thoughts of Ginny to the back of his mind. He composed himself eventually, forcing himself to postpone his breakdown to some undefined moment in the future, and began his ascent with a blank expression on his face.

The trap door to Luna's classroom was open, and when Harry climbed through it he found Lily and Luna sitting at one of the tables, looking into an Orb.

'Dad!' Lily said excitedly, running forwards to meet him. 'Professor Lovegood's been looking in the Orb. I looked too, but I didn't see anything. She reckons I'm probably not a Seer.' She looked a little disappointed.

'Well, one can never be certain,' Luna said, surveying Harry dreamily. 'Some people don't discover that they have the Gift until late in life. Then again, true Seers are very rare ...'

'Anyway,' Lily went on, 'I didn't see anything, but Professor Lovegood saw you, Dad! Only she wouldn't tell me what she saw.'

'Well, I'm sure Professor Lovegood was right not to tell you, Lily.' Harry was amazed that he was able to make his voice sound so normal. 'Making predictions is very tricky, you know.'

'Yes, I know, Dad!' Lily said impatiently. 'I'm going to get my stuff from the other room. I've found loads I want to take with me.' She skipped away happily.

Harry and Luna looked at each other, no one saying anything for a while. Finally, Luna said, 'So ... How was Ginny, Harry?'

Harry didn't say anything at first, but fought very hard to keep up his facade of calmness. 'Was that what you saw in the Orb? Me and Ginny?'

Luna nodded.

'It was terrible,' Harry said tonelessly. 'I ... I'd rather not think about it right now. We've decided that it's better for both of us if we ... if we never see each other again. I think it's for the best.'

Luna nodded again. Harry was grateful that she didn't say very much – that she didn't come out with any meaningless phrases of comfort when there was nothing that could comfort him.

Lily came back, carrying a big bag full of things.

'Wow, that looks very exciting!' Harry said in false cheerfulness. 'You'll have to show me everything when we get back to our quarters.' He turned to Luna. 'Thank you very much for taking her today.'

'Yes, thanks Professor Lovegood!' said Lily. 'I had a great time.'

'Not at all,' said Luna, smiling at her. 'I had a good time too. You're welcome here any time you like, Lily.'

She watched thoughtfully as Harry and Lily climbed through the trap door again, and closed it carefully behind them. Then she went back to the Orb, which was glowing mysteriously on its table.

'You'll see Ginny sooner than you think, Harry,' she said quietly to herself, peering into the Orb.


	20. The Boy Who Lived And Died

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, and please -- keep them coming! **

**Chapter 20**

**The Boy Who Lived – And Died**

John closed the rather large, old library book he'd been reading with a sigh. He looked at its front cover, thoughtfully. _Hogwarts, a History_, it said in gold letters. It had been a fascinating read.

He looked up to see Lizzie watching him. They were sitting in the Gryffindor Common room, close to the sparkling fire, the first real autumn rain rattling against the window panes.

'Finished it already?' she asked. John nodded. 'You were quick,' she said, looking impressed.

'It's an interesting book,' said John.

'Yeah, I suppose,' said Lizzie, 'not exactly light reading though. I bet neither Ron nor Jamie have read it yet – and Jamie has been here for a whole year, after all.'

John looked over at the two of them. Ron was reading a battered copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_, and Jamie was polishing the handle of his Nimbus 2020. John knew he was aiming for the position as beater on the house team next year – the beaters they had now were both in their seventh year and he'd probably stand a good chance, judging by the way John had seen him fly.

John still felt a bit rootless in the Wizarding World, and therefore found he had the need to read up on things. He had read all his course books, but that wasn't enough; he was wondering about so much in this strange world. At first he'd constantly pestered his friends with questions, but as the questions grew more detailed, he found that his peers neither could nor wanted to answer them, and had finally realised that he could find a lot of answers in books.

He picked up the next book in the pile on the table, eyeing it thoughtfully. _Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived – And Died_, by Rita Skeeter. On its cover was a photograph of a young man with rather messy black hair, startlingly green eyes and glasses. On the back there was a picture of a heavy-jawed blonde witch with jewelled spectacles. That had to be the author, John mused – Rita Skeeter.

John flipped through the pages, looked at the chapter headings and the pictures. So this was the man who had killed Voldemort. Harry Potter. He looked at the picture on the front cover again. Harry Potter didn't look happy in it; he looked serious, John thought, almost brooding. There was something vaguely familiar about him; John couldn't tell what it was. He'd seen Harry Potter on the Chocolate Frog cards, of course, and there were photographs of him in some of the school books as well, so John would have recognised him on a photo any time, but there was something else ... this was the same familiarity one might have with a childhood friend whom one hadn't seen for years, and who had changed so much since then that there was only a vague sense of recognition left. He could never have met Harry Potter though, John thought, since 'The Boy Who Lived' had died quite a while before John was born.

He shrugged slightly and began to read. He skimmed through the first chapters, entitled 'The Rise of Lord Voldemort' and 'The Prophecy', rather quickly, but read the next one – 'The Potter Family' – more closely. There was a picture of James Potter as a boy there, and John spent some time looking at it, seeing the same familiarity in it as in the photos of Harry; not so strange, perhaps, since the two of them looked very much alike. On the next page there was a picture of a young woman with thick, dark red hair and green, almond-shaped eyes. This had to be Harry Potter's mother. She didn't look much like him, but ... John suddenly shivered. There was something eerie about these pictures of people who had all died prematurely. He turned to another page, closer to the middle of the book. Here there was a photograph of two school boys who seemed to be his own age; one of them strikingly like Ron, the other one a younger version of the man on the front cover. John was feeling even more uncomfortable now, seeing this boy who clearly had to be Ron's dead uncle – by the same first name – and was about to close the book and take a break from reading when he realised that Ron himself was standing behind him, also looking at the photo.

'That's my uncle,' he said quietly to John as he turned around.

'That's what I thought,' said John.

'People keep telling me we look alike,' Ron said thoughtfully. 'It always used to annoy me, but when I look at pictures of him I can see what they mean.'

Now Jamie was coming over to take a look at the picture as well. As he leaned over the two of them to get a look, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. He stared at the photo, where Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were smiling and – did John imagine this? – looking rather smug. Jamie then looked at John, and then over to Ron and back at the photo again. He looked stunned, more so than John had ever seen him, for Jamie was not one to get surprised easily.

'What's so remarkable about The Boy Who Lived?' said Lizzie amusedly as she looked over at the three of them. 'You look as if you'd seen a ghost, all three of you,' she went on, smiling, then came over to have a look herself. The boys were still at a loss for words. 'Oh, uncle Ron,' she said as she got there, 'yes, you really look very much like him, Ron, but you knew that, didn't you ...' she fell silent, looking, for the first time, at Harry Potter. She then looked at Ron and John, who were standing next to each other, looking at her just as intensely as she was looking at them. She looked back at the book, then at the two boys again.

'Th-this is strange,' she stammered. 'You two ... when you're next to each other, you really look like Uncle Ron and ... and ... Harry Potter.'

They all looked at John, who felt his face go warm. That was it, he thought; that was what was so familiar with Harry Potter. He looked like him. But how was it possible? Was he related to Harry Potter, perhaps? But why, in that case, wouldn't his father have told him about it? On the other hand, John thought, there was still so much he didn't know about his father, so maybe it wasn't so strange that he hadn't told him about this. And then again, it might not even be the case; perhaps the four of them were just imagining things ...

They all started as the portrait hole opened and Professor Tonks came in with some official-looking sheets of parchment. She was heading for the notice board when Lizzie called out, 'Oh, Professor Tonks!'

Professor Tonks turned around and smiled at them. 'Yes, Miss Weasley?' she said.

'Er ... Professor Tonks, could you ... I mean, we were wondering about something ...' Lizzie, for once, seemed to be at a loss for words. Tonks came over to them, now looking slightly puzzled.

'Trouble with your homework?' she said, glancing at the book in John's hands. Then she stiffened, almost imperceptably. She cleared her throat, then said, 'Oh, I see you've got Rita Skeeter's book about Harry Potter ...'

'Professor Tonks,' said Lizzie hesitantly, 'Don't you ... don't you think Ron and John ... that they look kind of like ...' she lowered her voice to almost a whisper, 'like Ron Weasley and – Harry Potter?'

Tonks didn't reply straight away, but was looking intensely at the picture in the book, bending forward slightly as if to get a better look. John looked at her, realising that she had to have known Harry Potter; she had, after all, been a member of that resistance movement he'd read about, The Order of the Phoenix. John looked at her. She looked flustered – or did he imagine it? Well, it was no wonder if she became upset at seeing her dead friends, John thought. At that moment, Tonks straightened up, took a step backwards and knocked down Jamie's bottle of Branston & Browne's Brushless Broomstick Brightener from the small round table next to his chair.

'Oh dear, I'm so sorry!' she exclaimed, then muttered '_Evanesco_!' pointing her wand at the mess she'd made. 'I'll get you a new bottle of course,' she said as she bent down to check that everything was clean, 'I'll order one tomorrow from Quality Quidditch Supplies ...' She looked back at them. There was nothing in her expression that suggested that she might be upset anymore. On the contrary, she seemed quite calm, cheerful even, and, looking at the picture again, said, 'Oh yes, of course! Creevey, you must have heard a thousand times that you're the spitting image of your uncle ... And you, Evans, standing next to Creevey with your black hair, that would be a bit like Ron Weasley and Harry Potter ...' she gave a laugh – did it sound just a little over-cheerful, or was John's imagination playing him a trick again? – and went over to the notice board to finish what she had come there to do.

Ron, Lizzie and Jamie also laughed nervously and all looked away from the picture in the book as if in quiet agreement. It was only John who was still following Tonks with his gaze, and noticed the slight shake of her hand as she raised the sheets of parchment to put them onto the notice board.

The other three went back to what they had been doing, Jamie picking up his broomstick to take it back to the second-year boys' dormitory. John sat back and picked up the book which Lizzie had slammed closed when Tonks had left. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he opened it again, but he didn't look at the same picture. Instead, he looked at the photo of Harry Potter's mother once more. There was something about her, too ... something puzzling ... John looked at the text beneath the picture. There were only four words there: 'Lily Potter, née Evans'.

John froze. He looked at the names again, unable to believe what he had seen. this was Harry Potter's mother, and her name ... her name had been ... Lily Evans. John looked at the photograph again. Lily Evans, just like his sister. But how could this be? He scrutinised her face, closely. Those eyes ... those eyes were the same as his sister's. They looked exactly the same – how come he hadn't noticed before? Harry Potter's mother had had the same eyes as his sister, and also the same name ... John didn't know what to think anymore. He had always thought Lily had her father's eyes – their father's eyes, of course. There had to be an explanation for this, there had to be something. James Potter's family were all dead, he'd read that in some book or other; he had no living relatives, but maybe they were somehow connected to Lily's family?

Staring ahead of him, stonily, John quietly closed the book. He remained sitting for a while, unable to move. The others had resumed their previous activities, and didn't seem to notice him as he got up a few moments later and left the Common room.

John's thoughts were swirling as he half walked, half ran to the Defence Against the Dark Arts Quarters. His feet seemed to steer him in this direction automatically, yet as he came closer, he became increasingly aware of the fact that he had no idea what he was going to say to his father. Where to begin? What to ask? He swayed, all the way there, between thinking this was a figment of his imagination and thinking that it was all true, making an intense feeling of anger and distrust towards his father seep through his veins.

He was slightly out of breath when he got there, but knocked on the door straight away. He simply couldn't wait another minute. There was a moment's silence, then a few quick steps, and the door opened.

John had already opened his mouth to speak, although he hadn't decided what he was going to say, but at the sight of Harry he closed it again. Harry looked dreadful, there was no other word for it. His face was an ashen grey colour and his eyes were blood-shot; he clearly hadn't shaved or washed his hair that day, and his voice, as he said 'John!' was hoarse.

'Er ... Hi, Dad,' said John hesitantly. 'Can I come in?' He went past Harry into the normally rather cosy, welcoming room. It wasn't like that now, however; it was cold and dark and John thought he had felt a whiff of stale drink as he walked past his father. What on earth had he been doing? Had he been out drinking last night? It had, after all, been Saturday ... But his dad never used to drink, and anyway, he wouldn't have left Lily on her own – would he? But then, Lily didn't seem to be here ...

'Dad, where's Lily?'

'She went to the Macmillans, she spent the night there,' Harry replied. Did he sound flustered? John eyed him suspiciously. 'You know, in Hogsmeade; that's where she's being tutored. She's become friends with Susie, they seem to like each other rather a lot,' he went on, looking at John, his eyes weary as if he hadn't slept for ages. He gave a forced smile, then said, 'So, John ... what brings you here?'

John didn't reply, but went over to one of the armchairs beside the empty fireplace and sat down. He shivered. He looked at Harry again, more closely now, scrutinising his facial features, looking for signs of likenesses with the Potter family. There were none. – But yes, there were – the eyes, his blood-shot, weary eyes, were like... like Lily's. Like Harry Potter's mother's eyes ...

'It's funny, Dad, I saw a picture of Harry Potter's mother,' John blurted out, not able to stop himself. 'And ... her name was Lily Evans. Isn't that strange?' He looked at his father again. He was bound to explain everything now. Maybe ... maybe there was a perfectly natural explanation. John saw his dad look at him quickly, calculatingly. It was a strange look.

'Oh, yes ...' said Harry. 'Yes, they're namesakes ...'

When he didn't elaborate, John went on talking. 'So what's up with that?' he asked, a slight note of impatience in his voice. 'It can't be a coincidence, don't tell me that ...'

'Well, yes, that's precisely what it is, said Harry with an unnatural-sounding laugh. 'Your mother, who didn't know anything about the Wizarding World of course, really wanted her daughter to be called Lily, and since we happened to have the same surname ... It's strange how those things happen. But it isn't an uncommon name, after all. Neither of them are.' He was smiling now, looking at John reassuringly. 'Cup of tea, John?' he asked. John merely shook his head, staring at him again, unbelievingly. He was lying, he had to be. Or ... or was it like he said? After all, the names weren't uncommon ... and their eyes, were they really so much alike? Perhaps they weren't after all. No, perhaps they weren't.

Ignoring the fact that John didn't want tea, Harry waved his wand, producing two steaming mugs, and John was about to take one of them in spite of himself and drink when he happened to glance over at his father's desk. There was a pair of glasses lying there – his spare glasses perhaps, in case he mislaid his ordinary ones – only these weren't like the rectangular ones Harry usually had. John was sure he had never seen his father wear these glasses. They were round and steel-rimmed, and seemed horribly familiar. He rose abruptly, letting go of his mug so quickly that some scalding tea came on his hand and made him wince. He had to leave; he couldn't stand this. He didn't know what to say, and he felt he couldn't face his father anymore.

As he reached the door, however, he turned around, and looked at Harry who was staring at him alarmedly. 'I can't believe you didn't tell us, Dad,' John said tonelessly, the door already open. 'I can't believe you lied to us all this time. All our lives.'

'I – I don't know what you mean,' Harry said lamely. John could tell, however, that he knew perfectly well what John meant. But Harry went on, 'I've explained to you why I didn't tell you about the Magical World, John ... Surely you understand ...' he looked at him pleadingly, as if to beg him not to take this any further. _Pathetic_, was all John could think.

'You're Harry Potter, aren't you!' His voice was no more than a hiss, and he could see his father flinch at hearing these words. He hesitated for a moment, but then, without waiting for a reply or a reaction, he strode out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.


	21. In the Staff Room

**Chapter 21**

**In the Staff Room**

When Harry walked into the staff room on Monday morning he felt as if he had been run over by a steamroller. First he had spent a horrible, sleepless weekend going over every little detail of his meeting with Ginny in his mind. Then, after John had confronted him, he had spent another sleepless night planning how he was going to explain to his children that he had been lying to them for the past ten years. Harry knew better than to try to talk to his son when he was as upset as he had been the night before. He had therefore decided to let him calm down over night, and then talk to both of his children today.

Harry had really messed things up, and he needed time to think before he spoke to John and Lily again. Looking back, he didn't know how he could have been so stupid as to think that it was a good idea to hide everything from them. He, of all people, who knew so well what it felt like always to be kept in the dark. He should have told John and Lily about his identity the minute John had received his Hogwarts letter.

Instead, having made up his mind that no one was to find out that Harry Potter was alive, he had told nearly everyone but his own children who he was: Hagrid, Tonks, Luna, Ginny – but not Lily and John. Not to mention that he had still desperately tried to hide everything from John yesterday, when he as good as asked him right out if he was Harry Potter. What a fool he had been!

Harry sighed as he pushed open the door to the staff room. As if things weren't bad enough already, his first lesson of the day had been a disaster; it had been with the Slytherin fourth years, who had behaved even more obnoxiously than the Slytherins had used to behave in Harry's school days – or so Harry thought, at least. Although it seemed almost impossible, his only conclusion was that Pansy Parkinson must be an even worse Head of House than Snape had been.

To Harry's great relief, Pansy was not in the staff room today; the only teachers there were Luna and Tonks. They were sitting next to each other at the big table; Tonks was marking essays, and Luna was reading The Daily Prophet. Harry looked at the newspaper with a frown. The Daily Prophet … Colin Creevey's place of work. Tonks looked up from her essays as she heard Harry close the door.

'Hello, Harry,' she said absent-mindedly. 'We missed you at breakfast today.'

'I overslept,' Harry muttered. This wasn't strictly true – he had just not felt like facing the entire Great Hall that early in the morning. Not the way he looked after two sleepless nightsand a few glasses too many of firewhisky. As if she could read his mind, Tonks peered more closely at Harry's face.

'Are you all right?' she said. 'Don't take this the wrong way, but you look awful.'

'Er … rough weekend,' Harry said evasively, sitting down opposite her.

'Why, what happened?' Tonks looked genuinely concerned; it was more than mere curiosity.

Harry hesitated. Should he tell Tonks about having met Ginny? Luna already knew, and it seemed rather unfair to keep Tonks in the dark. Luna and Tonks were his two best friends in the Magical World right now; apart from Hagrid of course, but... Hagrid was different, and he was definitely not the right person with whom to discuss things like this.

'Well, on Saturday, I –' Harry began, when Tonks suddenly interrupted him.

'Oh, Harry, I almost forgot: John and his friends were asking me about … about Harry Potter yesterday. I thought I should give you a heads-up.'

'It's too late for that,' said Luna, looking up from her newspaper for the first time since Harry entered the room.

Tonks looked confused.

'Yes, it is,' Harry said in surprise. 'John came to see me last night. He'd figured out on his own who I really am, and he was far from pleased that I hadn't told him about it. I … I really messed the whole thing up pretty badly. Did you see that in the Orb yesterday, Luna? Because if you did, I think you might have warned me about it.'

'Oh, I didn't see that in the Orb at all,' Luna said dreamily. 'But this morning I saw something that's going to happen today, and from the context it was quite clear that John had confronted you yesterday.'

'Wow, Luna,' Tonks said sarcastically. 'Do you think you could be a little more cryptic?'

'Did you see me telling John and Lily the truth?' said Harry. 'Because that's what I intend to do.'

Luna simply shrugged non-comittally, and picked up her newspaper again. Tonks rolled her eyes.

'Ignore her, Harry,' she muttered. 'Just ignore her …'

'Would you like the sports section, Tonks?' Luna said sweetly. 'There's a most interesting article about the Guatemalan national Quidditch team …'

'I … what?' Tonks snapped. 'They don't have a national Quidditch team in Guatemala!' She snatched the newspaper from Luna's hand.

'They do now,' Luna said. 'Apparently, their Ministry of Magic have put a lot of gold into furthering Quidditch, and now they're going to try out for the World Cup.'

Harry couldn't help letting out a snort of laughter. He had suddenly remembered that Guatemala winning the next Quidditch World Cup was one of Luna's 'crazy predictions' that Tonks had told him about on his first day in the staff room.

'Well, that still doesn't mean that they'll win!' Tonks said, giving Harry an angry look. 'Anyway, let's get back to the subject. John must have taken it pretty badly, from the looks of you, Harry.'

Harry sighed. 'Well, yes he did … But that isn't everything …'

'No?' said Tonks, eyeing him intently.

'No,' said Harry, avoiding her gaze. He took a deep breath, and went on in the lightest possible tone, talking as fast as he could, without pausing long enough for Tonks to interrupt. 'I had a date with Pansy on Saturday, you see, took her for drinks at The Leaky Cauldron, and then I thought I'd take a look at the Ministry and just happened to bump into Ginny, very unfortunate, not at all what I'd planned, but what are you going to do in situations like these, and by the way – if Pansy asks, I-was-in-Slytherin-and-am-seven-years-older-and-finished-school-the-year-before-I-actually-started –' He stopped to catch his breath.

Tonks looked absolutely stunned. 'You saw Ginny?'

'Yeah …' said Harry, still avoiding her eyes. 'Listen, I don't really want to talk about it.'

'But Harry …' Tonks hesitated. 'But Harry, what did Ginny say? I mean, not how did she react,' she added at the look on Harry's face, 'but did she … did she tell you anything? Er, anything special?' She turned to Luna. 'Did she tell him … anything special?'

Luna shrugged again. 'Not that I know of.'

Harry stared at the two of them. 'What are you talking about?'

Luna and Tonks both looked away evasively, but were spared the trouble of answering by the entrance of none other than Pansy Parkinson.

'Hello all!' Pansy said cheerfully.

'You had a date with _her_?!?' Tonks hissed at Harry, as if she had only just realised what he had said earlier.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Long story,' he whispered.

'What's a long story?' said Pansy, sitting down as close to Harry as she possibly could.

'Oh … nothing,' said Harry, trying to move his chair away without Pansy noticing.

'Well, I had an absolutely wonderful time the day before yesterday,' Pansy said airily. 'Henry and I were on a date, you see.' She gave Luna and Tonks a triumphant look, and giggled girlishly.

Luna got up from her chair. 'As much as I'd like to stay for the rest of this fascinating conversation – and believe me, I would – I'm afraid I have to get going to North Tower if I'm to have enough time to prepare my next lesson.'

'Oh, certainly, Luna,' Pansy said politely. 'Don't let us keep you here!'

Luna gave Harry a dreamy smile on her way out of the room. Harry turned to Tonks, with a slightly panicked expression.

'You're staying, aren't you, Tonks?' he said, looking pleadingly at her.

'You bet I am!' said Tonks, looking at Harry and Pansy with an expression of the utmost amusement. 'Nothing could make me leave.'

Harry sighed with relief. Pansy, however, was looking at Tonks with narrowed eyes. She was obviously not pleased that Tonks was staying. Ignoring Tonks, she turned to Harry and gave him her most charming smile.

'It was such a pity that you had to leave early on Saturday, Henry!' she exclaimed. 'I really enjoyed our conversation. You know, one Slytherin to another.' She turned to Tonks again. 'You weren't in Slytherin, were you, Tonks?'

'Certainly not,' said Tonks with a snort. She gave Harry an amused look.

'Well, I think one should always stick together with people from one's own house,' Pansy went on, looking annoyed. 'Don't you agree, Henry?'

'Er …' Harry – who had had no trouble whatsoever deceiving Pansy in The Leaky Cauldron only a few days ago – couldn't think of anything to say. But he didn't really have to; Pansy was perfectly capable of carrying on a conversation unassisted.

'Yes, Henry and I are the only Slytherins on the staff,' Pansy said, giving Tonks a superior look. 'Professor Snape's old disciples, aren't we, Henry?'

Tonks had been about to put a pile of essays into her briefcase, but dropped them on the floor instead, where they scattered all over the room. Harry bent down to pick them up, but Tonks made no motion to help him. She was staring at Pansy, with an ominous look in her eyes.

Considering Tonks's feelings towards Snape, this conversation had taken a dangerous turn, but Harry had no intention of changing the subject. He had almost forgotten what Pansy had said about Snape in The Leaky Cauldron; his thoughts had been occupied first with Ginny, and then with John. But he remembered it now, and he realised that this might be a golden opportunity to find out more. He sat up again and looked at Tonks, who looked as though she was ready to commit murder.

'You like Snape, do you Pansy?' she said, her voice shaking slightly.

'He was a good teacher,' Pansy said coolly.

'He's a traitor,' Tonks said in a low voice. 'And a murderer.'

'That's not quite true now, is it Tonks?' Pansy said jauntily.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Tonks snapped. 'Everybody knows that Snape killed dozens of people! Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Dumbledore … Remus Lupin …countless others.'

'Actually, you're not quite right there, Tonks.' Pansy toyed casually with a strand of her hair. 'Bellatrix Lestrange killed Ron Weasley. Lucius Malfoy killed Hermione Granger. And the Dark Lord himself killed Dumbledore and Lupin. It's never been proven that Snape actually killed anyone.'

Harry looked at Pansy in surprise. She seemed like such an empty-headed little fool, yet she was surprisingly well-informed in certain matters. Matters concerning Snape …

'No, he was too smart to get caught,' Tonks said bitterly. 'Kept his cover very well. But he would have killed Ginny Weasley if the Aurors hadn't showed up. And he performed the Cruciatus Curse on Minerva McGonagall until she went insane. You can't deny that – there were several witnesses.'

Pansy shrugged. 'Perhaps he just didn't like her.'

'So what are you saying, Pansy?' Tonks said with forced calm. 'That he's innocent?'

'Oh, I wasn't saying that at all.' Pansy gave an ill-timed, girlish laugh again. 'But haven't you ever wondered why he was sent to Azkaban without a trial?'

'No I haven't,' Tonks said coldly. 'Everyone knows why. The evidence was so overwhelming that there was no need for a trial.'

'Perhaps,' Pansy said carelessly. 'Or perhaps there was so little substantial evidence that, had the case ever gone to trial, there was no chance he'd have been found guilty.'

Tonks and Harry stared at Pansy, both utterly speechless. Pansy seemed to be enjoying the attention; she was about to go on, but was interrupted by a tapping sound on the window.

'What … oh, it's Pinky!' Pansy jumped up from her chair, and opened the window to let in a tawny owl. 'What are you doing here, my lovey-dovey?' she said in a silly voice, as she untied a letter from the owl's leg.

Harry looked at Tonks, who was sitting immobile on the other side of the table, staring into empty space with a stunned expression on her face. After a few moments, she roused herself, and began picking up essays from the floor. It looked like their conversation was over for the moment. Harry was slightly disappointed; he had hoped for more than this. He looked at Pansy again, who was still standing by the window, reading her letter with her mouth wide open.

'I don't believe it,' she whispered, seemingly unaware that Harry and Tonks could hear her. 'Fifteen years … I've waited fifteen years, and now it's finally happening. It's finally worked!'

'What, Pansy?' Tonks said irritably. 'Old Draco's finally asked you to marry him, has he?'

Pansy folded her letter and put it in her pocket. When she turned around to face Harry and Tonks again, her expression was no longer silly and girlish, as it had been throughout their conversation. She looked cold and calculating.

'You are naive, Tonks,' she said. 'So naive. One would think that after everything you've been through … but no. So naive.' Without any further comments Pansy left the staff room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Harry and Tonks were left standing on opposite sides of the table, staring at each other in shock, not sure what had just happened. After a few moments of silence, Tonks bent down to pick up the few essays that were left on the floor.

'I … I have to go to class now,' she said, sounding confused. 'But we'll talk about this later, Harry?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, running his hands through his smooth, magically lightened hair. 'Yeah, we most certainly will.'

**Author's Note**: I hope you enjoyed this. Now please review.


	22. Questions

**Chapter 22**

**Questions**

Harry didn't have an easy time keeping his mind on his lessons after his conversation with Pansy and Tonks. His thoughts were revolving not only around Ginny and his children now – he couldn't help thinking about Pansy and Snape too. His mind kept darting from question to question, never remaining long enough on one of them to reach any clarity on it.

How was he going to explain to John and Lily that he had lied to them? Would they ever understand the reasoning behind his decisions? Would Lily be as upset with him as her brother had been last night?

Had he been right to tell Ginny that they had better never meet again? Weren't there still things that they needed to discuss? Maybe it would have been better to bury everything in the past, to pretend that he had never found out that she was alive, never found out that she was married to someone else ... The thoughts kept rushing through his head uncontrollably; there were so many unanswerable questions. And what had Tonks been talking about when she asked him if Ginny had told him 'anything special'?

Even Pansy was on his mind constantly, although he did his best to avoid thinking of her. What was going on with her, though? Why did she keep coming back to the same subject – Snape – over and over again? Perhaps it was merely because Harry showed such an interest in it ... but then, there might be more to it. Did she know something that Harry and Tonks didn't? Had she ... _could_ she have been right when she said that the reason Snape had gone to Azkaban without a trial was that there wasn't enough evidence to find him guilty?

Halfway through his last lesson for the day Harry was so tired of his thoughts going round in circles that he decided to dismiss the students early and take some action. At least two of the main things that were bothering him he could do something about – he could talk to his children and he could talk to Pansy. Ginny was another matter; he had no intention of going back on his decision not to meet her without giving it very careful thought first.

Harry went back to his quarters and found that Lily had come home from Hogsmeade early. She was sitting at the kitchen table, doing her homework.

'Do you need help?' Harry asked her.

'No thanks,' she said cheerfully. 'I'm writing an essay. You know, I'm really good at writing, although it's rather different using parchment and quill …'

Harry smiled at her, wondering, briefly, if she missed her computer and all those other Muggle facilities. 'I know. What's the essay about?'

'Well, Mrs Macmillan told Susie she had to write an essay about a famous person from the Muggle World, and I'm supposed to write about a famous magical person. So I'm writing about Harry Potter.'

Harry swallowed. It almost seemed as though this were a sign. 'That's interesting, Lily.'

'Yes,' Lily said, looking rather excited. 'I interviewed Mrs Macmillan about him. You see, she and Mr Macmillan were in the same year as Harry Potter when they were at Hogwarts. Although they were in Hufflepuff and he was in Gryffindor. But he had this Defence Against the Dark Arts-association called the DA, where he taught them lots of cool and useful things. I think it's going to be a great essay. Much better than Susie's – she's writing about Charles Dickens, and she didn't have anyone to interview but me.'

Harry swallowed again. This was it – he definitely had to tell Lily the truth now. But he didn't want to do it without John there. He didn't think he'd have the strength to explain the whole thing twice today.

'Lily, could you please wait here for ten minutes? I'm going to get John; I have to tell you something very important.'

Lily gave him a rather curious look. 'All right.'

Harry hurried out of the room. He was going to get John right now. He didn't care that he was going to have to pull him out of class; he had to talk to his children immediately. Besides, John's last lesson for the day was Potions, and Harry very much doubted that he would be disappointed to miss that.

Harry felt ill at ease as he made his way down to the Dungeons. He had not been here since his last Potions lesson with Snape, all those years ago. As he approached the familiar door to the Potions classroom, it suddenly opened and Pansy emerged, ushering John, Ron and Lily in front of her. All three children were bleeding profusely from their noses. Harry stared at them.

'Oh! Henry –' Pansy said, looking distressed.

'Pansy … what's going on?'

'Er …' Pansy tried to flash him her usual coy smile, but failed miserably. 'Slight mishap with a potion, that's all. Just on our way to the Hospital Wing.'

Harry peered closely at John's face. He was holding a blood-stained handkerchief to his nose and refused to meet his father's eyes.

'Why don't you let me take them?' Harry said, turning to Pansy again.

'Oh, would you, Henry? Thank you, that would be excellent. I'll just get back to my class then.' Pansy turned back to the door.

'Just a minute, Pansy,' said Harry, who had just had an idea. 'I'd very much like to discuss some of the things you said earlier. You know, in the staff room. Could I see you this evening?'

Pansy looked flustered. 'Well … er … this evening actually isn't very good, you know, because I've been called away unexpectedly on urgent business.'

'Really?' said Harry. 'Was that what your letter was about?'

Pansy looked even more flustered. 'Yes … but it won't take long, I'll be back by tomorrow morning. We could talk then. In fact, I'd very much like to talk to you tomorrow, Henry.'

'All right,' said Harry, slightly mystified by Pansy's behaviour. 'I'll see you tomorrow, then. Now we'd better hurry to the Hospital Wing before these three bleed to death.' He gave Pansy a cheerful smile and walked off with John, Ron and Lizzie.

As soon as he heard the door to the Potions classroom closing behind Pansy, Harry stopped and looked at the children. They all looked up at him with resentful faces, seemingly appalled that he would stand and have a calm conversation with another teacher while they were in dire need of medical attention.

'What are we waiting for?' Lizzie said testily.

'Personally, I'm waiting for the three of you to eat the other halves of your Nosebleed Nougats,' Harry said calmly.

John, Ron and Lizzie stared at him, their mouths wide open.

'Go on, then,' Harry prompted them.

Lizzie hurriedly took out three pieces of nougat from her pocket and gave one each to the boys. When they had swallowed them, and the bleeding had stopped, they all looked up at Harry again.

'How did you know that?' Lizzie asked. 'Dad and Uncle Fred always make sure that no Hogwarts teachers ever find out about the contents of the … er …'

'Skiving Snackboxes?' Harry suggested helpfully.

Lizzie gasped. 'How did you know that?' she repeated. 'Not even Professor Tonks knows about stuff like that, and she's real good friends with Dad and Uncle Fred. They were in the Order together and everything!'

'Well, Professor Tonks is a few years older than I am,' Harry said with an amused smile. 'I'm sure that if you asked Professor Lovegood, she would also be quite familiar with Fainting Fancies, Puking Pastilles and similar products. They're classics – they were around back in our day too, when your father and your uncle were just starting their business.'

Lizzie and Ron were staring at Harry in awe, but John had a sullen expression on his face, which reminded Harry of why he had come down here in the first place.

'Listen,' he said, 'to be quite honest I don't blame you for wanting to skive off Potions. So just for once, I am going to pretend that I've never heard of Nosebleed Nougats, and that your noses just stopped bleeding of their own accord. Now, Lizzie and Ron, please go straight to Gryffindor Tower and clean your faces. John, I have something important I want to discuss with you, so please come with me.' He put his hand on John's shoulder and steered him towards the stairs. To Harry's relief, John made no objections.

When they came back to the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's quarters Lily was still sitting at the table, doing her homework. She looked curiously at her father and brother.

'So, what did you want to talk to us about, Dad?' she said, apparently deciding to disregard John's bloody face for the moment. Perhaps she, too, was familiar with Nosebleed Nougats.

John sat down next to his sister without bothering to wash his face first, and gave Harry a resentful glare. Harry took a deep breath and decided to get straight to the point.

'Fifteen years ago, when I left the Magical World, I had every intention of returning again soon. I simply wanted to be alone for a while, to live as a normal Muggle, without anyone knowing who I was. So I took certain measures to make sure that no one from the Magical World would find me. I changed my appearance, for instance … and my name.'

'You changed your name?' Lily said slowly.

'Yes. After a few years I met your mother and we got married. The two of you were born and I … well, as things turned out, I simply remained in the Muggle World. It was so much easier that way. I should have told you, as soon as John received his Hogwarts letter, what my real name is. But I didn't, and for that I am truly sorry.'

There was a pause. John looked down at the table, and Lily looked at her father with a slight frown.

'So, what is your real name?' she said after a while.

'Harry Potter.'

Neither John nor Lily said anything. John still looked down at the table, and Lily looked at Harry, seeming interested rather than surprised or angry.

Harry went on. 'You have every right to be angry with me for not telling you about this earlier. Every right. 'As I said, I'm sorry I didn't tell you as soon as John got his letter, but I–'

'You should have told us earlier than that!' John interrupted him, his voice filled with resentment. 'You should have told us … well, as soon as we were old enough to understand. I think Lily and I have been pretty good about this so far: we find out, completely out of the blue, that we're all wizards, and that we've just been living a fake muggle existence our whole lives. And what do we do? Do we say one single word about the fact that you've kept something that important from us? No, we simply accept it and go on with our lives, no questions asked. Then you turn out to be some sort of Defence Against the Dark Arts-genius and come here to Hogwarts to teach; and again, we accept it without a word, even though our whole lives have been turned upside down once more. And now we find out about this – who knows what else you haven't told us! You say you're sorry, but I don't think you're sorry at all! I tried to talk to you last night – you had your chance to tell me then, but you didn't. You just kept making flimsy excuses. And,' John added, as though this were the final straw, 'you'd been drinking!'

Harry let John talk until he had said all that he wanted to say, and sat back, glaring at his father. Harry sighed heavily. 'You're right, John – my behaviour last night was very stupid. Inexcusable, really. You and Lily have been very good about all the changes that are happening in our lives right now; I know it can't have been easy for you to deal with all this, on top of the circumstances concerning your mother. And I know just how you feel, having all this new information sprung on you all of a sudden–'

John interrupted him again. 'You have no bloody idea how we feel,' he muttered angrily.

'Yes, I do, John,' Harry said calmly. 'You read my biography, didn't you? I was raised in the muggle world, just like you. I had no idea that there was such a thing as magic, and I had no idea that there was anything special about being Harry Potter. All that was sprung on me when I first came to Hogwarts. And there were so many other things that I didn't find out about until much later – the Order of the Phoenix, the Prophecy …Yes – believe me, I know what it's like to be kept in the dark. Remembering what that felt like, perhaps you're right, John … perhaps I should have told you as soon as you were old enough to understand. But I had my reasons for not doing so.'

'Reasons?' John snapped. 'They'd better be good.' He was looking at his father with narrowed eyes, his face still stained with blood. Lily was looking at Harry with an expression that was hard to read, her green eyes darting back to John every now and then.

Harry smiled, almost sardonically. These were his children, and they meant everything to him. But how could he ever explain to them – to anyone – what it was like to be in his shoes? No one, not even those who had been around back then, before Voldemort's fall, could ever understand …

He took a deep breath and leaned forward. His hands shook slightly as he began to speak, but his voice was steady and calm. 'You are both intelligent, and you have been through a lot – your mother leaving us, her subsequent death, and suddenly finding out about the Magical World and coming here. But, intelligent as you both are, you can't possibly grasp what I went through when I was at Hogwarts, and what motivated me to act as I did. When I left the Magical World I had lost every single person who was dear to me in the battle against Voldemort. I lost my parents before I was old enough to remember them. I lost my godfather when I was fifteen years old – he died right in front of my eyes. And during the war, I lost so many others: Remus Lupin, who was my parents' best friend; my own best friends, Ron and Hermione; my mentor, Albus Dumbledore; and … my girlfriend – the love of my life. I had faced Lord Voldemort again and again. I saw him return to his body in front of my very eyes – he used my blood to do it. I saw him kill innocent people in cold blood, knowing that I was the only one who could stop him … the one who had to kill him. And I did. I killed him. After all that I did not want to be Harry Potter anymore. Harry Potter was as dead to me as he was to the Magical World. And I didn't want to revisit the pain of all those losses by speaking about it. That is why I couldn't tell you.'

Harry paused and looked at his children again. They were both staring at him now. His speech had obviously had some sort of impact on them, but just what it was, Harry could not guess. John still looked somewhat evasive, but no longer as resentful as he had before. Lily looked pensive. Neither of them spoke for a long while, and Harry left them to their own thoughts, simply sitting with them at the table, ready to answer the many questions that they undoubtedly had.

'Does anyone else know that you're Harry Potter?' Lily finally said.

'Only Professor Hagrid, Professor Tonks and Professor Lovegood. And I would be very grateful if you didn't tell anyone else about it for now.'

'Can I go and see Professor Lovegood now?' Lily asked.

'Yes … of course,' Harry said, slightly taken aback. 'But don't you want to talk more about this first?'

Lily shrugged. 'No. I have to think it over first.' She got up to leave, and John followed her.

'Yeah. I'm going to think it over too,' he said calmly. They both left the room, leaving their father alone at the table.

Well, that had gone much better than he had expected, Harry thought in surprise. He had anticipated endless questions, more accusations from John, perhaps even tears from Lily. Perhaps that was yet to come, but he doubted it. Once John had calmed down, he usually didn't fire up again that easily, and if there were no tears from Lily now, there wouldn't be any at all. As for the questions, he would probably get a few over the course of the next months, but it seemed like Lily had preferred to go to another source for her answers at present, and perhaps she would share them with her brother too. While this was in no way over, Harry hoped that perhaps they were at least past the worst of it.

Harry sighed with relief. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His thoughts were no longer spinning around madly in his head. All the questions about Snape and Pansy would simply have to wait until tomorrow, when he intended to have a long and thourough discussion with the latter. As for the questions about Ginny … Harry doubted very much that they would ever be answered. Perhaps it would be just as well to push them to the back of his mind and try not to think about them – if that could at all be done.

Harry went over to an armchair in front of the fire, which was sparkling merrily. He sat down, unable to do anything but stare into the fire, soon becoming completely absorbed by the dance of the flickering flames. Slowly he leaned back, still looking at the hypnotising orange and yellow, and finally relaxed. If only he could sleep ... But he mustn't, not yet; he hadn't even had dinner and still needed to plan tomorrow's classes. His thoughts were drifting, his attention elsewhere, when the fire suddenly changed colour and texture – there was a face in it. Harry blinked confusedly. There had been a flash of dark eyes and longish hair, but – who was it?

He got up, quickly, poking around among the burning coals with the fire-tongs – but there was nothing there, the flames licking the walls of the fire-place innocently.

**Author's Note**: Thanks to all those who have reviewed, and I hope you all found this chapter enjoyable too. Please share your thoughts about it with me and the other readers:)


	23. Faces

**Chapter 23**

**Faces **

Harry stood, immobile, looking at the flames, the stone wall cold against his hand as he supported himself against it, the fire-tongs still in his other hand. The face in the fire was gone and wouldn't come back, yet Harry remained standing there, staring. Who had it been? The short glimpse hadn't been enough for Harry to be able to tell. He closed his eyes wearily and bent his head, letting the fire-tongs slip out of his hand onto the floor with a loud 'clonk'.

He stood there for what seemed like hours, unable to move. He racked his brains – who had it been? But however much he tried to recall the features of that face, they still eluded him, even more after a while than in the beginning. Then, standing there, he remembered another strange scene, that dream he had had – more than once – where his hands and legs had been tied, where he'd been unable to move, and where there had been an eerie, shrill laughter – a madman's laughter...

Harry shuddered and straightened up, looking around the room once more as if to check that the mysterious person from the fire wasn't there, then left for the Great Hall.

* * *

Harry sat down in his usual seat. Neither Luna nor Tonks were there yet, so Harry helped himself to some lasagne, chips and salad and began to eat. He wasn't very hungry; he couldn't keep his thoughts from the face in the fire – and if he did, for a moment, he began thinking, instead, of his dream. He hadn't had that dream for a several days now... Was it possible, perhaps, that this had been a dream too? But no – Harry shook his head to himself – this hadn't been a dream; he most definitely hadn't been asleep, and the face – the face had been real. Hadn't it?

After a minute or so, Tonks arrived and sat down between Harry and Hagrid's seat, which was empty at the moment. She looked left and right down the table.

'What, Pansy not here?' she said contemptuously.

'She's been called away,' said Harry, smiling slightly, glad that Tonks was here and could divert his gloomy thoughts. 'On _important business_.'

'Well, good riddance!' Tonks poured pumpkin juice into her goblet with so much force that she nearly knocked it over. 'I hope she never comes back. We can do without her stupid ranting about Death Eaters …'

'You don't believe her, then?' Harry asked, amused at the vehemence in Tonks's voice.

'Don't tell me you do!' Tonks exclaimed, and went on without waiting for an answer. 'This is _Pansy Parkinson_ we're talking about. Probably one of the most stupid people who ever lived. She was just trying to annoy me and impress you. You know she's got a thing for you, Harry.'

'I suppose you're right,' said Harry, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

'Of course I am.' Tonks took a large serving of chips, ignoring the lasagne. 'Will you pass me the vinegar, Harry?' She sprinkled the chips freely with the vinegar, then salted them liberally as well. 'So, how did it go with John and Lily? Have you talked to them?'

Harry sighed. 'Yes. I guess it went … rather well. Better than I expected, actually.'

Tonks cocked an eyebrow as if to say that that was more than he deserved, and Harry silently agreed. 'Well, you must be able to imagine what they're going through,' she said pointedly, but then went on in a more levelled tone, 'There's no need to tell you, I know.' She kept on gazing at him intensely. 'John's a quiet boy,' she said, 'it's always hard to tell what he's thinking. Or feeling. You should look him up again soon; he might not let on that he's hurt, but he may well be.'

Harry nodded. 'I know, and I – I'm not quite sure how to handle him. He is so like' he hesitated – 'his mother. And although we were married; although we lived together for so many years, I can't say that I ever really got to know her.'

'Oh, do you really think so? I think he's very much like you were when you were at school.'

'Well, perhaps it's easier for you to see. And you didn't know Cordelia of course.' He went on to tell Tonks all about the mother of his children, how she'd left them and later died. He then fell silent, looking ponderingly at the rest of his lasagne.

'By the way, Tonks, you know what Skiving Snackboxes are, don't you?' Harry said suddenly, as if to try and shake off the gloomy, melancholy feeling that had descended on them during their conversation.

'Of course I do.' said Tonks, smiling. 'I make it a point to procure a catalogue of Fred and George's entire range of products every year. I have to use a fair amount of cunning to do it of course – Fred and George do their best to make sure that no Hogwarts teachers find out about their new products. But I always do. Not that it matters, really. No student has ever dared to use them in my class.'

Harry smiled. 'You know, you remind me so much of Professor McGonagall.'

Tonks stared at him. 'I do?'

'Yes … I mean, no offence, Tonks. I always thought that McGonagall was a great teacher –'

'Oh, I'm not offended, Harry,' Tonks interrupted him. 'It's just that … well, if someone had told you fifteen years ago that I would remind you of Professor McGonagall you'd have laughed in their face, wouldn't you?'

'We've all changed a lot since then. Everything has changed a lot since then …'

'Yes, I know. But still …' Tonks stared at her plate of chips, apparently deep in thought.

Harry cast about for something else to say, to avoid the feeling from a few moments ago. 'Anyway, Pansy will be back tomorrow morning, I'm afraid.'

Tonks looked up again and smiled at him. 'Too bad.'

Harry gave her a smile in return, but it felt rather forced. 'I thought I'd just have another word with her about what she said earlier,' he said hurriedly. 'I know you think it's all rubbish, but I'd like to be sure there's nothing more to it. So, is there anything you think I should ask her?'

'Feel free to talk to her if you must, Harry, but I don't want to have anything more to do with the matter. So far as I'm concerned, those Death Eaters deserve every second of torment they're getting in Azkaban – every single one of them,' she said vehemently. 'Now – I really must go. I have a delivery of pincushions to attend to.' Tonks rose hurriedly, reminiscent of her old self as she almost knocked over the chair on which she'd just sat.

Harry looked up and realised that Luna had just sat down in the seat next to his. He wondered briefly why Tonks had been in such a hurry to leave all of a sudden, but his thoughts were soon occupied with more important matters, for as Luna nodded at him, he remembered that that was where Lily had said she'd go after they'd talked.

'Lily – Lily's just been to see you Luna, hasn't she?' he said to her straight away, apprehensively. What had Lily said to Luna?

Luna looked at him pensively and nodded. 'Don't worry too much about her, Harry,' she said earnestly. 'You've got so much on your mind,' she continued, laying down her fork. 'Lily is taking all of this well, and if left to her own devices, she will go on that way. No worries, Harry.' she smiled. 'After all, this isn't really so very traumatic.'

Harry couldn't help but smile back at Luna. 'Thanks –' he said, 'thanks. I do worry a lot, I know; it's just that I've done so much wrong, so many horrible things –' he halted, looking at Luna. 'They've gone through so much this autumn only, and now I've caused them even more trouble...'

'They know you're only human, Harry,' said Luna, 'they'll understand, both of them. They're sensible children.'

'Have – have you seen that in the Orb?'

Luna laughed softly. 'The Orb – always the Orb. Oh, well, yes. I've seen it in the Orb.' she looked at Harry dreamily, and Harry found himself almost blushing at the stupidity of the question he'd just asked. He smiled back at her, then looked at his now cold lasagne and pushed the plate away.

'I'll go now before I come out with any more stupid comments,' he said and rose. 'I'll come with Lily the next time she goes to see you, Luna – then we can have some tea and talk in peace and quiet. We've got so much to catch up on, don't we?'

Luna nodded smilingly and went on eating her lasagne. As Harry came to the door, he turned around and looked out over the four house tables. There, at the Gryffindor table, was John, talking to Jamie and Lizzie as usual, not looking too worried at all. Harry looked back at Luna, opening his mouth to say good bye, but stopped. As he saw her face, he had a quick, almost imperceptible flash of déjà vu – the expression in Luna's face was similar to the one she'd had once when he left her in North Tower – an inscrutable, mysterious expression, an expression that made Harry shudder with unease. He shook himself to get rid of the feeling, then blinked and looked at Luna again. She looked completely normal, just the way she always did. He couldn't keep from staring at her for another second, then averted his eyes and left the Great Hall, quickly.

* * *

That night, as Lily had fallen asleep, Harry sat in front of the fire, a cup of tea in his hand. He was relaxed, yet his gaze kept wandering to the fire in case someone should show up there again. He was so tired. Images kept flashing before his mind – his dream, the face in the fire, Pansy that day when she'd got the owl, Luna, even Tonks's embittered face as she blamed Snape for Lupin's death. It was already dawn when Harry awoke, still sitting in his chair, feeling as if he hadn't slept at all.

He walked over to his bed without bothering to undress, and fell into a heavy, leaden sleep, finding it hard to wake up when it was time for breakfast an hour or two later. Lily had gone off to the Macmillans and Harry was in the shower when there was a sharp knock on the door to his quarters.

'Hello-o!' he heard Pansy's voice from the living room. He swore quietly for not having locked the door after Lily left, put on his bathrobe and went out to her, drying his short, fair hair with a towel.

'Pansy,' he said, 'why don't you sit down while I get dressed.'

'Oh dear, did I interrupt your shower!' Pansy exclaimed, looking at him appraisingly. She didn't let her eyes rest on Harry for long, however, but kept throwing nervous glances around the room.

'Never mind,' said Harry, flashing her a smile. He put on his robes quickly and went back to her, realising he was almost looking forward to this conversation. She was still standing. 'So, Pansy,' he went on, 'Glad to see you're back.'

Pansy laughed coquettishly. 'Oh, it's good to be back, Henry.'

'Been to see some friends, have you?'

'Yes, but never mind that now – I – well, you know –' she stopped suddenly and looked around again. 'There's nobody else here, is there? Have you any protective charms on your chambers?' Her gaze swept past the fireplace, Harry noticed, where there was still rather a large, warming fire.

'Of course I do,' he said calmly, thinking, ruefully, of the unlocked door from just a few minutes ago – and of the face in the fire the day before. 'I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, remember?' He sealed the door with a quick locking charm.

'Oh – yes... Well, one never knows.' She hesitated, searching for words, looking flustered, almost distressed.

'But Pansy, why don't you sit down,' said Harry, surprised at her insecurity, so un-Pansylike. He indicated one of the comfortable armchairs in front of the fire. 'Did anything happen?' he asked as they both sat down.

'Oh, no, no,' said Pansy, then looked at him again, clearly in some doubt as to whether she should tell Harry whatever she was about to tell him. Harry almost felt sorry for her, silly and self-centred though she was.

'Look Pansy,' he said, 'why don't we have a cup of tea here instead of going downstairs to breakfast.' Without waiting for a reply, he waved his wand to produce a neat breakfast tray. 'You know, Pansy – it's good that you're here actually,' he went on, 'because I wanted to talk to you... about what you said the other day. You know, about – Snape. About him being innocent.'

'Oh, Snape!' Pansy snorted, '– Never mind him now! He's not important, don't bother your head about him, Henry...' she looked at him doubtfully again, seemingly unsure of how much to disclose to him. 'Snape doesn't matter, not since I found out that – er – well, never mind, he's just not important.' She cast another glance towards the fireplace and then towards the door. 'Besides, I'm not sure that it's safe – they might hear us, you know.'

'Hear us? Who? Pansy, surely you know – I mean, surely you can't believe anyone could get past the wards around Hogwarts?'

'Oh, the wards!' Pansy said impatiently, looking at Harry as if he were a stubborn child. 'That doesn't matter to _them_! But as I said, don't ponder too much on Snape; sure he's in Azkaban anyway, so what would be the point?'

'But Pansy,' Harry looked at her puzzledly, 'it was you who said he was innocent!'

'Innocent? I didn't say that, I only said his guilt couldn't be proven... There's a vast difference there, Henry.'

'Oh...' Harry tried to work out what was really on Pansy's mind but failed. 'So you don't think he's innocent then?'

'Did I say that?' Pansy retorted irritably. 'But why bother our heads about Snape; no one will ever find out about him anyway, he's been locked up in Azkaban these fifteen years and never spoken to a single soul... And he won't for the next fifteen years either. Let's just let him rot in peace – I've got more important things to attend to!' She stood up, looking around confusedly again, wringing her hands, then said, 'Oh, I'll tell you... I have to, what else can I do...?'

Harry had risen too and was staring at her. What on Earth was she on about? Their breakfast tray sat on the little table untouched, the tea cooling in its cups.

'But no,' Pansy went on, 'No, no – I mustn't tell you –' she looked at him fearfully, 'no, I mustn't; it might be dangerous for me – _and_ you –' She walked away from the fire and the armchairs, to the centre of the room, then paused, unable, however, to stand completely still, her eyes still darting in every direction. 'They might hear, after all, and then _he_ – he'd know –'

'Pansy, look,' Harry said, almost pleadingly, for Pansy was looking very distressed now. 'Why don't you sit down again and have some tea and – well, tell me what's troubling you. You never know – maybe I can help?'

'No! I couldn't possibly. Oh Henry, surely you see I must do what's best for _me_! Surely you understand me, Henry – you're a Slytherin yourself – tell me you understand!'

Harry had never understood less in his life, but nodded reassuringly all the same. 'Now Pansy, just sit down –'

Pansy shook her head violently and made for the door. 'I must go, Henry... there's so much I need to do – so much I need to think about.' She sighed heavily, looking both ways as she opened the door out into the corridor, and left without another word. Harry stood transfixed, staring at the door which closed behind her.

He was about to go after Pansy, to try to find out what she had been on the verge of telling him – to calm her down – when there was a knock on his window. There was a large tawny owl outside. Harry let it in and it dropped the note it had brought and left, not waiting for an answer. Harry opened the note quickly, not looking too closely at his name, written in green ink on the outside. 'Harry,' it said simply,

_There is something urgent I need to talk to you about. I know we said that we shouldn't meet again, but there is no one else I can turn to with this. I shall come and see you tonight._

_Ginny_

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note**: A welcome to the new readers of this story, and a big thank you to all those who have reviewed! Please share your thoughts on this chapter as well. :)


	24. Confrontation

**Chapter 24**

**Confrontation **

'You know, Rita Skeeter is my dad's boss,' Ron said as he was flipping through the pages of _Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived_ _– and Died_. He had borrowed it as soon as John had finished reading it, and was presently in the process of devouring it. He was sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, along with John and Lizzie – John was toasting crumpets and Lizzie was eight inches into a Potions essay.

'She is?' John said, looking over at him with interest. For a short moment, he wished he could tell his friends who his father really was. 'So, does she ever ... you know... talk about the old days? She must have known Harry Potter pretty well to write his biography.'

Lizzie snorted. 'I doubt it.'

The two boys looked at her in surprise. 'What do you mean?'

'Well,' said Lizzie, lowering her voice slightly, 'last Christmas when we all went to see Granny at The Burrow, I overheard Dad, Uncle Fred and Uncle Colin talking about her.'

'Really?' said Ron. 'Managed to get hold of some Extendable Ears, did you?'

'Oh, Dad has an ample supply at home – he doesn't know I know, of course ... anyway, since we were going to The Burrow I thought a pair might come in handy.'

'You might have told me about it,' Ron said, sounding slightly hurt.

'I tried!' Lizzie said exasperatedly, 'but when I came to your room that night you were sleeping like a baby, and as babies need their sleep I didn't want to wake you, ickle Ronnie.'

'Oh, shut up,' Ron muttered.

'So what did you hear?' John asked.

'Well, most of it was rather boring. They kept talking about Uncle Colin's job, and how he doesn't get to choose which photos to put in the paper, and bla bla bla, you know.' Lizzie rolled her eyes. 'But then, Dad said that Rita sure has changed since the old days.'

'Well, that wasn't very interesting,' said Ron dismissively. 'What could he have meant though?'

'Oh, I know exactly what he meant,' Lizzie said, lowering her voice even further. She turned to John and went on. 'You see, John, Rita Skeeter's the best editor-in-chief the Daily Prophet's had for decades; at least that's what our parents think,' she gave Ron a meaningful glance, 'but she didn't use to be that way. Apparently – according to what I heard at Christmas – she used to be quite a gossip-monger. And Harry Potter was one of her prime targets for a while there.'

'Oh, right ...' Ron said, 'I remember Mum mentioning something about that once. But I didn't know it had anything to do with Rita Skeeter! Something about Harry Potter having been harrassed, even.' He turned to John. 'My parents were at school with him, you know. They knew him rather well. Mum even went out with him for a while, before she fell in love with Dad. I don't think it was very serious, though.'

Lizzie snorted again. 'That's not what I've heard.'

John and Ron stared at her, Ron of course having no idea that this statement was just as upsetting for John as it was for him.

'What's that supposed to mean?' John snapped.

Lizzie looked at him puzzledly.

'Yes, what?' Ron echoed.

'Well,' Lizzie said smugly, 'also at Christmas, as a matter of fact, I happened to overhear a conversation between Mum and Aunt Angelina. And Aunt Angelina said that it was a relief that Aunt Ginny was so happy these days, and who would have thought that she'd ever be happily married fifteen years ago. And Mum said that it was well deserved after all she'd gone through – after all, she'd lost _the love of her life_!'

John dropped his latest crumpet into the fire and swore. Both he and Ron stared at Lizzie in disbelief.

'They can't have meant Harry Potter,' John said agitatedly.

'Oh but they did,' said Lizzie. 'Because Aunt Angelina mentioned his name specifically – she said they were made for each other.'

'But ...' John cleared his throat. 'But I'd heard somewhere that Harry Potter's girlfriend died ...?'

'No way – ' Lizzie smiled triumphantly, 'I'd have heard that too if it were true. No, no – it was Aunt Ginny who was the love of his life. And then he died.'

'What do you mean – are you saying that my mum doesn't love my dad?' said Ron.

Lizzie's smile faltered. 'Oh – I – I didn't mean – '

'You didn't mean what?' Ron went on. 'All of what you just said?'

'Well, I mean ... I'm sure he wasn't the _only_ one – you can have more than one boyfriend, you know ... I mean – she was the love of _his_ life, but that doesn't mean he was the love of _hers_!

'But that's precisely what you just said! You said "she'd lost the love of her life."'

'Er ... well, I meant it the opposite way! You can't expect me to remember everything correctly!' Lizzie looked flustered.

'Whatever, Lizzie,' Ron sneered. 'You can keep those Extendable Ears to yourself by the way.' He stalked away angrily.

Lizzie looked at John, who seemed strangely subdued. 'I didn't think about it,' she said helplessly, 'I totally forgot that Auntie Ginny is Ron's mother ...'

John only nodded for an answer.

o o o

Harry paced his study impatiently, feeling almost as nervous as Pansy had been when she'd come to see him this morning. Ginny ... Ginny was going to come; he was going to see her again, so soon. His Ginny. Harry couldn't resist a smile, but then chided himself for it inwardly. She was married, he reminded himself; she wasn't his Ginny at all – she was married to Colin Creevey.

What could she possibly want though? Did she want to talk? Well, yes, obviously she did, but what about? Thoughts kept circling his brain aimlessly until he was thouroughly confused. One thing was for certain; it had to be something really important, since she'd decided to see him again so soon after they had decided never to meet again.

Finally, there was a knock on the door, and Harry's voice shook slightly as he said 'Enter!' Ginny walked into the room followed by none other than Colin Creevey. Harry started. He had taken for granted that she would be on her own – he had certainly not expected her to bring her husband. How could she have brought Colin with her? Didn't she realise how much it hurt to see her together with another man?

'Hello, Harry' Colin said quietly, holding out his hand for Harry to shake. 'It's good to see you again.'

Harry stared at the hand, but could not bring himself to take it. Colin Creevey. How well he remembered Colin's arrival at Hogwarts so many years ago, the way Colin had admired, almost worshipped Harry when he first came there. So Ginny had told him everything … He turned to Ginny, a sinking feeling inside him. He had taken it for granted that she'd never tell anyone, but – obviously – she had.

'So, I see he knows about me,' he said coldly. 'I thought it was understood that we should keep this between the two of us. Who else have you told?'

'No one!' Ginny said hotly. 'Not even Mum, although she of all people deserves to know. You were like a son to her.'

Harry blushed slightly. He knew that Ginny was right, but he had no intention of admitting it. He realised that, for a brief moment at least, he had thought that the reason Ginny wanted to talk to him was that she wanted them to get back together, perhaps even ... _elope_ – deep down he had thought so, in spite of all his reasonings; in spite of the certainty that this was not so. But of course he had been wrong; Ginny wasn't like that. She would never do to her children what Cordelia had done to Lily and John. Harry sat down behind his desk, and indicated that Ginny and Colin should sit too.

'Well,' he said, trying to sound careless – 'what brings you here?' He directed his gaze at Ginny, trying to avoid looking at Colin. 'Only four days ago we decided that we should never meet again.'

'I know. But I have to talk to you about something, Harry. It's important.'

'It had better be, considering what I'm putting myself through right now…' Harry mumbled.

'What _you're_ putting yourself through? You think this is easy for me? You think _I_ want to be here? You think I haven't spent every minute since you left my office thinking about you, about what might have been if things had been different?'

'Oh, I don't know …' Harry said condescendingly, 'you seem to have moved on with your life.'

'No more than you have! I spent three years mourning you, Harry. Then I faced the fact that you were gone forever and got married. That's exactly what you did!'

'There's a difference,' Harry said, his teeth clenched.

'What?' Ginny was staring at the desk, avoiding Harry's gaze.

'I married a Muggle, someone who'd never met you, never heard your name. Someone who didn't know anything about the Magical World, who didn't even know who I was.' Harry paused, casting an angry glance in Colin's direction. 'I didn't go and marry bloody Colin Creevey!'

Ginny got up. She was shivering slightly, still not looking at Harry. 'Let's go, Colin! We don't need to listen to this.'

Colin, however, grabbed her arm, and gently pulled her down again. Then he leant forward over the desk. 'Look, I know this is difficult for you, Harry. It's difficult for everyone –'

'Everyone?' Hary snorted. 'Can't be too difficult for you, Colin, considering you took the first chance you got to marry _my_ girlfriend!

'How – how _can_ you!' Ginny's voice was shaking with rage. 'Don't you dare talk to him like that! He was there for me when you weren't – when you were off hiding in the Muggle World! Colin never ran away, and he lost people too, you know!' Ginny's face was white and her eyes blazing. 'And here I've been, first mourning you, then meeting you again and unable to stop thinking of you, and you – you're precisely the bastard I thought you were! Don't you dare say a single word against Colin, because he's worth ten of you!'

Colin had his arm around Ginny by now and made a soft hushing noise, while Ginny was still shaking. She looked away, panting, Colin giving Harry a resentful glance. Then, slowly, Ginny turned back to face him.

Harry's face hardened. 'You know I left because –'

'Oh, I know why you left, there's no need for you to wallow – to rub it in, to ...' she stopped mid-sentence, her face suddenly loosening up, the features softening. 'Look, Harry, I know you had your reasons for doing it … and I'm not blaming you for _that_.' She looked at him pleadingly. She went on, softly, 'But you have no right to blame Colin either. He was there for me at a time when no one else was … when almost everyone – including my own family – thought that I was crazy. And he never did anything inappropriate. He never … well, it wasn't …' she gave Colin a quick look, a tender look – '_I_ was the one who suggested that we get married, not Colin. So stop acting as if Colin stole me away from you, Harry, because he didn't. You left me … like it or not, those are the facts.' She averted her eyes again, as if looking at Harry were painful.

They were all quiet for a moment, Harry and Ginny avoiding to look at each other, Colin looking at the two of them, something akin to pity in his expression.

'I can't imagine what this must feel like for you, Harry,' he said quietly, 'but I have a pretty good idea what it feels like for Ginny. I was there when she dealt with your … death. I know at what cost she managed to come to terms with it. And you may not believe this is difficult for me, Harry, but when I married Ginny my hopes for the future didn't exactly involve her childhood love – the love of her life, if you will – turning up alive and well twelve years later. Let's just say that neither Ginny nor I would have come here today if we didn't have a good reason.'

'Very well. What is your reason?' Harry's voice was cold.

'Forget it, Colin. I can't talk to him when he's like this!' Ginny made for the door, determinedly, her hand already on the doorknob when Colin stopped her.

'Ginny … He might be able to help. You've been waiting for an opportunity like this for fifteen years. You can't throw it away.'

'No – no Colin, we shouldn't have come in the first place. It was a bad idea, like I said – a rotten idea. See, I thought something like this would happen.' She paused. 'Come on, let's get out of here.'

'Ginny, will you stop it!' Colin gave Harry a look so full of anger it made Harry start, and he came to life and went over to Ginny too. They were right, of course – what was he doing? Slowly he began to come to his senses as if he'd been having a nightmare. This was Ginny, his – _love_ – and Colin, a person who had never done him any harm. Harry took a deep breath and was about to speak –

'Look, Harry, just listen to what Ginny – what we have to say, all right?' Colin said before Harry could utter a word. He then looked back at Ginny and said, gently, 'Go on, Ginny, tell him. You have to – you know you do, or else you'll –'

'Oh, I know, Colin,' Ginny said irritably, 'if it weren't for _his_ behaviour,' she cast an angry glance in Harry's direction, 'I'd ...'

Harry looked at Ginny, blushing. She didn't return his gaze. What a fool he was. All this time, and he hadn't learnt a thing; he was still as immature as he had been at seventeen – or worse, even. Ginny was right, of course. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to say anything, but simply stared ahead of him stonily.

'Oh, all right.' Ginny took a deep breath, looked over at Colin who gave her an encouraging look, and said, 'We're here because of Professor Snape.'

Harry stared incredulously at her, his mouth wide open. What on earth was going on here? Every way he turned, someone wanted to discuss Snape. Pansy was one thing, but _Ginny_? It seemed as if, since he had returned to the Magical World, everything was somehow connected to Snape. How could a man who had been locked away from the world for so long, a man who had been subject to the Dementors for fifteen years and who must surely be mad by now, still have such an impact on so many people in the wizarding world? A man who hadn't talked to a single sould for all that time? A man who had caused so much irretrievable harm to so many people – someone who had caused so many deaths? What could Ginny possibly have to say about this man? Slowly, Harry closed his mouth, and swallowed.

'What about him?' he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realised that he already knew what the answer was going to be.

Ginny looked him straight in the eyes, and then said it.

'Severus Snape is innocent.'

o o o

**Author's Note**: As you can see, things are getting ... interesting. A few of you were asking about Pansy and her puzzling behaviour, but as you may have guessed I cannot tell you anything about that as yet.

Thank you for reading. Feedback is always appreciated.


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